Thank you!
Yes, I tried to be more poetic, but it still will be very useful to know what stylistic corrections you would have done.

In the beginning, it is a small tree with a thin flexible stem. It sways in the breeze, a future oak on the hill. It's bright green leaves and long smooth branches strain after the light to be filled with power of the sun, and to hug it.
Now He is the best friend for the young tree, and it is yet unknown how destructive His love can be.
Time goes by. The tree is in bloom, it occupies more and more space. The tree's big leaves with sharp edges hold and slice the sky. The tree has become a part of a nature's circle. It has survived hoarse storm and peace of dawn, burning indignation of the Sun and the animals' love. The tree now has enough strength to share it with acorns.
But the best part of life is going away, life abandons the tree, it starts getting smaller and smaller.
The decline of life has come. Death does not have only one direction. It is pervasive, it penetrates deeply into every cell of the tree, in the end leaving ruins covered with dust.
A mouldering piece of wood is left afterwards, a liberating space for new creatures.

I will say that "hoarse" is not typically a word that someone would use to describe a storm; the boring substitute would probably be "violent".