There is just something about a weeping tree that touches my soul; weeping cherries in front yards and weeping willows with their wispy branches dancing in the breeze. I gaze upon their movement and my heart sighs a bit every time I pass one. These weeping trees let their sorrow be shown; they don’t try to hide it behind a tall Oak exterior or a pointed pine distancing itself from vulnerability. They allow their branches to droop and the wind to take their limbs wherever the breeze may blow. They must be so secure with themselves.
How would the world appear if we had the strength of character to weep like the willow in front of anyone and everyone to see? If we broke down the façade of being happy all of the time and brought the authenticity back to life. Yet, we hide our sorrows and our doubts from others, unless they are deemed trustworthy. But in holding it all back we also relinquish the possibility of moving with the breeze being carried by something bigger and better than ourselves; the truth.