Description

Human Tree
We Grow in Spirals
.
.
We grow in spirals, not lines. Life never moves straight ahead, it bends, returns, and roots itself deeper each time. Our bodies carry the memory of soil and storms. Our hair stretches upward, a quiet offering to the sky. We are made of bark and breath, of things that endure and things that shift with the wind.

From the earth comes our beginning. The ocean roars and the land hums our names, reminding us that we belong to something ancient. In every wave, in every grain of red soil, there is the pulse of our becoming, a rhythm older than our footsteps. Even when the world feels heavy, our roots whisper: stay, grow, become.

And when the weight of the world finds our shoulders, we do not collapse, we listen. We understand that what we carry is not a burden, but inheritance. The wisdom of those who came before us is vast and round as the moon, heavy as love, luminous as memory.

We are trees shaped by time, crowned by history, grounded in knowing. In stillness, we rise. In growth, we remember. And in remembering, we become again, endlessly reaching, endlessly rooted.