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.