We can only climb as high,

As low as we can sink.

I love how you keep my head in the sky,

And never put a reign on the power of think.

I grew roots into soil I never wanted;

In turn, it grew m branches uncharted.

Roots were equated with horror before:

Trapped; Stagnant; Solitary; Confined.

But roots are equated with horror no more:

Balanced; Safe; Unwavering; Nourished.

For without its roots, a poor tree would topple,

Fall heavy, unable to reclaim its stance.

Without its roots, a poor tree is simply hobble.

Roots allow her branches toward the sky to dance.