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"Psithurism", A poem

Through the forest blows the breeze,
and with it go the leaves.
They grow anew in the dawn of spring
only to be carried away.
But the tree stubbornly remains,
rooted to its place with fervent determination.

The ground beneath it may be shaped
by the rough caress of wind and water,
or even washed away entirely by the storm.
Creatures of the wood come and go,
living and dying by the day.
And yet the tree remains persistent,
strong and unyielding.

Even if the winds
uproot the mighty titan,
knocking him to the cold ground,
he still may not relent,
unmoved by winds of change.​


Note: This blog entry was made before the July 2020 site update that removed all blogs for a while. Though it had to be reuploaded at a later date, this entry was originally posted on April 26, 2019.

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