There are seasons in every life that ask you to quit. The job that stalls, the work nobody sees, the year that takes more than it gives. The wind has many names and forms. Its job is always the same: to test what holds.
Most let go. Not because they had to, but because the shaking convinced them it was over.
The wind will blow, as it always does. The tree will shake, the weakest will fall.
Holding on isn't strength. It's knowing winter is not forever.