the rain on the plain ground in the plain town grows no trees, for plain grows nothing. the water just floods and washes away as there's nowhere to seep in hard clay.
the oddity of a seed ripping itself open to display its soul to the earth and then grow a tree came from a need to be free, to reach past the soil to the sky, and so the very small things become shelter and shade.
the breaking inside me will wound me, but i will try to reach for the sun and stretch out my branches and soak up the water in the earth and grow leaves till i die.
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