Dancing with the Winds
Beneath the hills where waters slide,
A willow grew by riverside.
While others reached with rigid form,
She bowed and spun in sun and storm.
She swayed with winds both soft and strong,
As though she heard a secret song.
The oaks stood firm, the pines stood proud,
And murmured warnings deep and loud.
“Stand tall,” the oaks began to chide,
“Let not the breeze your trunk divide.”
“Too much you bend,” the pine trees cried,
“One storm, and you’ll be swept aside!”
But willow smiled, and gently swayed,
In morning light and evening shade.
She flowed with wind, she curved with rain,
Unmoved by judgment, praise, or strain.
Then came a gale with howling might,
That turned the day into a night.
The oaks were cracked, their limbs laid bare,
The pines were snapped and stripped of care.
Yet by the stream, so well she may,
The willow danced the storm away.
She bent, she swirled, but did not fall—
She yielded, yes—but not to all.
And when the dawn returned once more,
She rose in silence by the shore.
The forest stared in hushed surprise,
The knowing dancing in her eyes.
Moral:
To bend, to yield to circumstance,
Is sometimes life’s most precious dance.
Strength is not always loud or grand.
It lives in those who understand.
Src: ecstaticdance.org