In life, we are given trials. We can either be stricken down by them or become strong and grow because of them them. The poem talks about how people, like trees, grow and reach their true potential by overcoming adversity. It is through struggles, like a tree fighting through forest growth, to reach the sun, that we grow and discover our true potential.

The tree that never had to fight

Ep 3: Close your eyes and visualise as I recite Daffodils by William Wordsworth.

I wandered lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o'er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host, of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine

And twinkle on the milky way,

They stretched in never-ending line

Along the margin of a bay:

Ten thousand saw I at a glance,

Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they

Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:

A poet could not but be gay,

In such a jocund company:

I gazed—and gazed—but little thought

What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the daffodils.

630 frames is a metaphor being used in this poem, meaning being different than self and trying to fit in. Here's the transcript of the poem: 

After 630 frames, 

Now I'm accepting myself It has taken time, many years, people and  630 frames.

Dripping with self-love, Trusting the greatest power,

Withdrawing and prioritizing my need for the solitude and my higher self.

It purely took the wisdom, the faith & the virtue of letting go.

Now, it's finally the time to accept. 

After 630 frames,

I'm accepting myself It has taken time, many years, people and  630 frames. 

- Srishti Verma

Hey guys! In this experimental podcast, I am reciting one of my favourite poem by Robert Frost- Stopping by woods. Sit back and relax!

Whose woods these are I think I know.

His house is in the village though;

He will not see me stopping here

To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer

To stop without a farmhouse near

Between the woods and frozen lake

The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake

To ask if there is some mistake.

The only other sound’s the sweep

Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep.

-Robert Frost