Sycamore

You can find me in Israel, Egypt, Lebanon,
I’m really tall and am someone quite well known.

My ethereal leaves are heart shaped,
My figs that I yield are commonly craved.

I was well looked after at King David’s orders at western foothill,
Cedar and I were the celebrities according to King Solomon’s will.

I was also well cared for and tended by prophet Amos,
Prophet Isaiah chose me in showing Israel’s rebellious heart and chaos.

In Jesus’ time a Zaccheus was at a loss,
For around Jesus, crowds heavily buzzed on their toes.

For Zaccheus was really a man of short stature,
I thanked god for my height of twenty meter.

At the peak of my vainful glory,
It should have been the end of my story.

For as swift as the winds of east,
My branches wilted, and I shrunk and creased.

“Behold this is my begotten Son,” a Voice cried,
“Will you not repent? To my children will you be stumbling block so defiant?”

The voice shook my leaves with a tingling,
I let myself be held by Zaccheus, preventing him from falling.

I thought I’d be dead the moment Lord cast his eyes here,
When He said, ‘Zaccheus come down,’ I trembled in fear.

But soon the fear was replaced with peace
“So it shall be to anyone whose feet shorn with good news’ piece,”
Said the Voice to me pleased.

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