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(from small acorns, mighty oaks grow)

So much pressure on growth,

Small acorn by comparison to most of the world,

Yet I will undoubtedly amount to so much,

I just need time and turgidity,

Push through,

Push upwards,

Push onwards,

Gravity gives a clue about which direction

That I must push against,

With all those pressures, I’m geotropically immune,

Suck water from this hypotonic environment,

Plumping up my vacuoles pushing ninety per cent.

Push out,

Push up,

Push on,

Growing taller, fatter, greener, meaner,

I can feel my inner walls pushing against each other,

Giving me strength,

The strength of my walls adds to my turgidity,

And my determination to show you all.

Pushing out,

Pushing up,

Pushing on,

I have a neurotropic attraction to what is above,

I need to break free soon into the unknown,

Drink deep from the reported warming sunlight,

Photoautotrophic ready, stepping up production,

Feeding life-giving sugars.

Feed free,

Free feed,

Feed on,

Along with your pressure and expectation,

So far, this existence has been,

Controlled by Turgor pressure,

I feel it in each little cell, pushing against the wall,

Enabling, with growth, to become a mighty Oak.

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