Bamboo

I was a seed, enduring many a 'death', planted in damp soil, germinating because of 'heat'. Then I sprouted; no mulching was done, and i was watered by the pounding rain...the vagaries of weather relentlessly sought to destroy me, the scorching sun seeking to leave me withered. But somehow I grow. I endure and I grow. My roots grow ever deeper, reaching dark places engorged with water. They permeate rocks and pebbles, slowly but surely carving out a pathway for my lifeline. Outside there's no shift, but underneath, my roots are fortified. Twill take me 'seven years' to grow but once I start to, only the morning mist will touch me. See I'm a bamboo plant, that is my growth cycle, confounding yes, but true none the less.