Today I measure wind by measuring me and find if I should yield - or should I stand? Do I bow like the birch or tougher be, tied to a boulder that holds down the land? The rose, no doubt, has goals, intends to grow a certain way yet it is sometimes blown by alien winds. Sometimes I must go subject to wills that are not my own.

If I must bend to them (lest I should break) I must determine, plan how I should bend to grace the alien pathway that I take, and thereby, haply, come to some good end!

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