Someone once said I was a fanatic of escapism
That I would never find peace if I never stopped moving
But let me ask you;
Can you name a creature that doesn't move?

Trees grow
They shake with the wind, and shower all below them with leaves
Further cementing their carved throne as the elders of our planet

Mushrooms, dogs, lizards, fish
I could name creatures and organisms that 'move' for days
I could give you a fact about each of them
And teach you why darwinism has blessed that specific species with its touch

They said I'm an escapist
Someone who runs from trouble and problems
Or maybe from life itself
Or maybe in circles
I say
When you're a pine tree in a green house there is no such thing as escapism

There's drive to live and acceptance of demise
The only two forms of black and white that's even remotely close to the chessboard you're picturing
My drive to live isn't escapism

So when my branches break your windows,
When my canopy and height topples this ceramic plated greenhouse,
Dont you dare say it was an escape attempt.
I didn't escape. I didn't even leave.
I did as a pine tree does
And I Grew.