The laying of root.

Before one can flourish, they must know the dirt, they must know the earth; they must lay root. Only once foundation has been established may we reach for the sky. I give thee permission to stand strong and tall, grasping at the sun. Water and rays are all you need most days, but often a wind blows through and it’ll tear you to shreds. Tattered and ripped may you be, but some time in a cave is all that you need. After some rest, you may now leave your lonesome nest for you are destined for greater things, maybe not greater than the rest but certainly things that are best for you, yet.

A changing of environment is particularly scary; a web of possibilities lay in the shadows, eyes wide reflecting your gaze back upon you. There’s nothing scarier than the thing that which you don’t understand; the thing that which you project your fears upon. It’s a natural occurrence to be concerned about a changing of nest, like a complete redirection than the trajectory previously set. Who would’ve known that it would come to this? You gotta’ do what you gotta do to survive. Life’s but a game with infinite quests. Infinite variation and challenge; how is one meant to know for sure, which way is the best? Try one and find out I say, because each day you age, and time’s not for certain; the world may lay waste to ye the day after next.

 

 

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