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English, 30.11.2021 04:50 Shamplo8817

I created a poem for English. I'd appreciate if someone could help edit it... How my world was made

Some say the Earth was created by an explosion of matter.

The matter formed humans, plants, rocks, life.

But what matters, is how my world was made.

There was no explosion or eruption.

But in my beginning, our beginning, there was a small, brown seed.

It was planted in soil, being crowned Earth's first creation.

It didn't produce a weed or flower.

It grew into what we call a tree, a tree that held Mother Natures' power.

Every hour, this tree grew, reaching greater heights.

It grew taller than a bird's average flight.

One day, there was a great storm.

The tree noticed it was out of the norm.

Its branches began to sway.

And the tree began to give way.

Down, it started to fall.

Crying, to the sky, it exclaimed, "Catch me, for I am tall."

With its blue hands, the sky reached down and took hold of the tender leaves.

Making sure to cleave tight.

It pulled the ground and sky together.

"Look, you achieved to make the horizon, this will be Earth's beauty forever," said the tree.

"Yes, I believe so," whispered the sky with glee.

When we look out across the deep blue, it appears as if the sky is touching the water.

This was how this creation came to be.

Thinking of what else to make, the tree exclaimed

"What about a creation that will maintain this Earth when I am gone?"

Looking down, as dawn rose above him, the sky said-

"Peel off a piece of your bark, plant it in the soil, it will grow a being."

The tree obeyed, foreseeing Earth's most joyful but devastating creation.

Over time the bark transformed.

It churned and grew two arms and legs.

Grass was planted into the top.

Growing hair, like grass, never stops growing.

One day, the being came forth.

It was produced to know its worth.

The tree began to become old.

It whispered boldly to the being

"I am no longer able to create this Earth, but you must bring forth your meaning."

With a swift blow from the hand of the being.

It struck the base of the tree, beginning to understand.

Down, down, down it fell.

It took the pieces from the tree.

And together the being and sky became to be.

Every day, they would plant the bark.

Making a new mark in history.

Each piece grew something new, it was a mystery.

More beings came forth, animals, buildings.

This was how the world came to be.

Man still tends the Earth.

And together, with all creations, we spread our worth.

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I created a poem for English. I'd appreciate if someone could help edit it... How my world was mad...

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