A delicate little creeper sits snugly along a river bank, watching the cold water flow past, onward forever. There are its tiny roots firm within the warm earth, forever holding on tightly. These roots provide stability, strength and support to the little green life above. it is not the task of the roots to wander away; like they should, they stay in place for the sake of the rest of the organism. One might say they're rigid and strong; and that's their identity. Underground, there's very little to move and slow to grow but it is warm , secure and connected.
Meanwhile, I see a tendril, the frailest part of the creeper. So tender, young, bright and fresh. Delicate and beautiful, this art of Nature. Small and frail it may be, but watch it sway with absolute grace, over the brushing splashes of the cold river, riding over the turbulence, it learns to synchronize, adapt and respond. I see agility, zest, strength, perseverance and energy under the cloak of the tender so frail, little and tender. I see endurance, passion , patience and acceptance, to learn to tumble along even when it is cold rough and turbulent.
There's a wonderful balance struck so right; the roots, ever so strong hold onto the soil and work to survive, while the little tendril up above seeks new life, blazing with passion it sets off to endure the new and undiscovered. The leaves in between, glowing emerald green, some darkening as they age, are the milestones- pride and achievement of the creeper.
And thus together from the root to the tendril a life is complete and whole, every detail, every function necessary for its glorious existence.
Meanwhile, I see a tendril, the frailest part of the creeper. So tender, young, bright and fresh. Delicate and beautiful, this art of Nature. Small and frail it may be, but watch it sway with absolute grace, over the brushing splashes of the cold river, riding over the turbulence, it learns to synchronize, adapt and respond. I see agility, zest, strength, perseverance and energy under the cloak of the tender so frail, little and tender. I see endurance, passion , patience and acceptance, to learn to tumble along even when it is cold rough and turbulent.
There's a wonderful balance struck so right; the roots, ever so strong hold onto the soil and work to survive, while the little tendril up above seeks new life, blazing with passion it sets off to endure the new and undiscovered. The leaves in between, glowing emerald green, some darkening as they age, are the milestones- pride and achievement of the creeper.
And thus together from the root to the tendril a life is complete and whole, every detail, every function necessary for its glorious existence.
