The wind:
A friend but also an enemy;
A natural disaster in the making;
In the end brings out the best of things.
Refreshing to see,
And marvelous to feel.
Heat from the rays, a temporary heal.

The beautiful sight
Of branches swaying
In the sky,
As if saying:
“Blow wind! Blow! Shape me, break me!
“Make me something better! Mold me! Make me!”
Pain at first, and ugly ness and shame,
But in the end pride from scars and victory remain.

Overcoming the wind
That blew from all sides,
Fought against me to make me fall,
But my roots are stronger, stronger than all!
All the temptations to give up
And lack of the desire to stay up.

My roots never gave up on me,
Despite the pain and sorrow from my suffering.
The wind may blow my branches
And the wind may blow my stem,
But the roots is have that grip the earth
Are what make me continue to stand.


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