The Colour Of The Wind

She dreams big, runs wild, loves hard.
He stays low, walks cautiously, thinks deeply.

She will sing until her throat dries up. She will love until death falls for her.
He will work until his muscles go numb. He will overthink until voices on himself scream for a pause.

Like the wind, she is always craving for more.
Like the tree, he is always trying to be stable.

The wind brushes through the tree, but never stops.
Or else, the wind isn't wind anymore.
The tree holds the wind, but never moves.
Or else, the tree isn't tree anymore.