if the world is made
of stone and wood,
then the world grows
defiantly, as it should—
slowly, surely, the world
grows as it should.
if the world is made
of cloud and sky, then
life will pass us by, sigh
by sigh, each cloud pass
us by, as sure as the world
is made of cloud and sky.
if the world is made
of water, endless plane
that conquers all; tranquil,
eternal at rest, shattered upon
storm’s crest, then the world will
never be at rest, never be at rest.
if the world is made
of fire, then man is a candle
in a choir of flame, each name
a moment that radiant exclaims,
“the world is, as it could, for the
world IS, when should, becomes
would.”
Peterborough Poets 
Love the images this evokes!
“[T]he world grows / defiantly, as it should” makes me picture a twisted little tree clinging to a dirt pocket on a mountain. Because it can.
Caitlin— as I have said in other poems, it is the reader who makes the poem, who is the source of the poem— thank you for being the reader you are! What a wonderful image, and comment!