Just for possible future use (you never know) and I hope you don't take offense but how does a heart of America boy keep himself from having his head sawed off by psychotic Islamic fundaMENTALists with rusty hunting knives in the heart of beelzebub's shit heap.

I could be wrong about the beelzebub's shit heap part. If I am I appologize. I might have been thinking of West Virginia at the time.

The Vin Diesel you see in movies is actually a rare hairless gorilla indigenous to the jungle/toxic waste dump known as The Bronx. This explains the indecipherable monkey babble that dribbles from his mouth whenever he attempts to speak ('cause he's from The Bronx. Get it? brlllrumpbump-Tishhh.)
I've sped up the evolutionary process for his species so that within the next five years he and his kind will evolve into giant erect penises that will unite to take over the world beating all humans to death with their huge heads only to soon become extinct in the subsequent celebration catastrophe when they all drown in their own ejaculation. The world will then be the way it always should have been, Stupid.

Hear the prophecy of Evil Denis.

Gandolf's ultragay?!

Those poor little Hobbits.

(psst) Roquefort.

I saw the tree reference but shouldn't you be standing not sitting? Wouldn't moss more likely grow on your limbs than your hands? At first it seems like the tree is a metaphor for how long you waited there but then it starts to imply an actual transformation into the tree which would be really cool but you'd need to say "My feet took root" and "moss grew over my hands" To bring out the actualness of it. If you go the symbolic route then the moss and the rooted feet have both symbolic and tree meanings (Like a tree I'm rooted here. I must have waited long if moss is growing on me) but leaves growing out of your fingers is too impossible to carry the double meaning so it must indicate an actual or perceived transformation by the narrator.

Even so I really liked the poem and it's images.

My name is Vin Diesel and yes behold I am the Lord God.

As it turns out I can not really hear you for I am only a figment of your imagination.

You might go this route.

It's a quiet place, this gated
community so well integrated
The scent of magnolias filling
the air with promise of spring
the squirrels bravely leaping
from tree to tree to tree

It's a well-mannered community
though visiting hours end early
no one ever need complain
visitors don't often remain
long silences are hard to sustain
Patience is a patient's pace

It's an AABBBC CCDDDE EEFFFG...etc. Rhyme pattern.

See you don't have to change much to re-stylize your poem.
Just decide how you want it to be and do it.
It doesn't have to rhyme either it just has to sound good.