Plucked from the ground
We stop growing
We leave our roots behind
Our frayed stem trailing behind us
But we’re rising
Slowly, our viewpoint expands
We can see more of the earth
We see freedom, open space
And also containment, death
This trip will come to an end
Much sooner than we can ever be ready for
We’ll get our chance to live forever, though
A strong wind, or one big blow
Will spread our seeds
Each one creating something new, different
~
Photo by Dawid Zawiła on Unsplash
