Strong and firm.
Roots stretching deep into the dark, rich soil.
Always feeling the weight of the world,
Consumed with the swirling breath of air wrapped up around them.
Tossed and twisted to other’s pleasure.
The Reeds are whipped endlessly.
They battle, time and time again, to stand up tall.
The whirlwind synchronizes their dance, as it blows transiently through the rolling fields.
It eventually dies down, for a fleeting moment, they reach up straight to the sun.
Letting the warm glow infuse them with strength, just in time for the wind to return.
The torment that is bestowed upon the Reed, it endures.
Eternally seeking the beauty, the sun brings.
I am the Reed.