I am a great tree, a sequoia, firm and revered amidst the bright light. I shelter the strong and the valiant, the winners, unopposed. None shall destroy me; the intimidating growl of the lion shall frighten all. I am vicious, rooted in tradition, and although not handsome, I am a wise pearl.
But yet I have a dream, a reality it seems to be. I am a dandelion seed, floating in the wind. I cannot stop, I cannot see where I must go, all is unclear. I feel free, I feel beauty, I feel compassion, I feel love. All of infinity is mine to conquer, I hear the gentle yawns of the lion.
Which am I? Am I merely an empty vessel, an empty fish, with thorns? Or am I a beautiful creature, deceiving those of my lethality?
A lemon is bitter but can be made sweet; a kiwi has only sweetness. A pearl is rarer, finer than a diamond in the rough. What could one achieve anyway, floating with no control, no opinion' I know not what I truly am, but I am a great tree, a sequoia, firm and revered amidst the bright light.