You are a seed. One of many covered by the soil, you are lucky if you grow. You stretch long tendrils out under the ground, sapping in capital, building yourself. Soon you tower above the land, and your profit blooms. People gather for miles to admire the beauty of your growth. Eventually, you deplete the land of its resources, and your growth can’t be sustained. People try to prop you up with sticks, fearful that your beauty will never return. They want you to keep growing. One day you will die, but it won’t be the end. All that you took from the land will be returned, reabsorbed by the soil, and soon we will stand in the shade of something far greater.