After a calm but noisy hour past, the sun started to cover the lawn with just a mild sample of its inevitable blaze. Within the hour, every bond between the tips of the blades of grass and the rest of the blades were broken. The newly freed tips were helplessly blown away by artificial wind, the purpose being to make the grass that they were once connected to look cleanly cut with nothing unattached lying around that would mess the view of the lawn up. It was those tips, at one point, that made the grass look so sharp and so neat. But over the course of time, the bottom-dwellers of each blade shot up to take that tip’s spot on top – every blade experienced this transition. Now, all curved and unruly, the entirety of the lawn looks undesirable. Those on top that are curling and blowing wildly with even a soft blow of the wind must be cut down and conform so that the grass may look straight, neat, and normal again. The bottom-dwellers and the new growing grass get their way; the nervous tips scream, “Oy vey!” But no one may realize that the freed tips were once grown out of the ground to take over other straining tips, and not prepared for the invasion of the growing grass beneath them, nor the harsh conformity that they would be pressured to adhere to. Now they no longer have to strain or obey – they pass their blessed curse to those below them who will one day feel the weight of their duty and be aggrieved of their once glowing naivety. Let the bottom-dwellers rejoice in their taking of the plastic prize of reaching the top before they humbly beg to be freed from their restraints. The once shackled tips have passed on their role as part of the lawn and now freely roam this vast world with the wind as their guide. Out of the dark corner the tips go: to places new, but never old.