Green, yet tall and developed is the wild bamboo. The stalk is thick and has nodes, in case it will lean over too much and crack— that way, there will still be something left. Fresh and with a beautiful hair of leaves cascading, holding on to stems, the bamboo stalk is brooding sideways as it stares at the ground. There seems to be a sound similar to waves, but much smaller and frail as the wind flows through the leaves—they are suspended blades of grass; sharp waves.
Creaking and motive, swaying in the powerful day or during the powerful night is the wild bamboo. It sways as if moving away from the discomfort of staying in the same position for too long, but it is always grounded and can never leave the spot that it grows on. One day the wild bamboo will crack and tear apart at the seams only to land on the ground and to escape a piece of itself just a bit. It takes self-destruction to experience new ground. A dream will be realized and there will be no creaking, until the wild bamboo regrows, only to fall again.
Creaking, silent, broken, and fresh is she, the wild bamboo.