A revolution that was still.

The soil is being tilled beneath us.
Within us.
Among us.

In that soil lies a seed of the purest revolution.
A revolution not of protests.
A revolution not of picketing.
A revolution not of raised voices.

One day this seed grew into a seedling.
It endured the harsh winds of northern lands.
It endured the flooding rains from above.
It endured the scorching of the sun.

And still, quietly, this seedling of revolution continued to grow and stretch out into the world.
And now this seedling has hardened its branches and trunk and is standing firmly as what it was created to be.

And now stands an Oak of revolution amongst us here in this day.
An Oak that supports the children of the land.
An Oak that helps the elderly to stand straight.
An Oak that shades the workers of the harvest.

And now the revolution takes on new definitions.
A revolution of quiet love.
A revolution of still waters.
A revolution of blessed conversations.

A revolution that is held by the great Oak that stands firmly by the cool waters of the brook.

This was a revolution that was still.