There's nothing more true than letting go. Ironically, there's nothing to hold onto anyway.
Flowers blooming in a wide field following the Sun's arc - there is no zenith, only what they're after. Still, they move with the wind whether it's gentle or violent. And when they are uprooted and torn apart they do not blame the wind for they have done what they could and still are. Even in pieces, with ripped petals and broken stems, they know how to give.