They made a seed that somehow grew
deep from this wild earth.
The sun came in.
The rain poured out.
The branches spread out like wildfire.
The roots dug deep.
The roots, they seeped through.
They tried to hold on to the ground
as the winds came howling.
The storms were cruel.
And there were times when it was just barren earth.
But through it all, you'd hoped that, just once, they would come.
For after planting it, they somehow never looked back.
They think, "That is all."
"It's all up to you."
For you see, growing is supposed to be natural.
But to survive and to withstand...
To grow tall when they try to cut you down...
You don't do that all on your own.
So now that the storm's over...
Now that the apple's fallen off its tree...
They come around, looking for that little seed.
But they don't know you.
They have no idea.
Of how much you've grown through the years.
They just stand there, expectant...
as if the wind's about to carry you towards them.
But the roots, they are deep.
The branches stretch far.
This tree has stood alone without them.