Krystal tells a small fable about a plant that hates the sun, the light, the water and the land. The speaker never says it outright, but the plant seems to stand in for a person who feels unloved and is afraid of being found out. It lives with tears and fears, worries that someone will discover it can't appreciate the world, and then falls with autumn. Landing by the sea doesn't fix anything, but it gives the plant something new to look at: a cold, dark moon where no plant can live.
The plant can't fly, swim, walk or talk its way there. It can only be itself, and that turns out to be the answer. Over months it grows longer, greener, prettier, and it begins to make its own light. The mood moves from bleak and anxious to quiet, hard-won pride. The opening line, "I can't trust the words I am telling myself," keeps some doubt in the air, but the ending, loving itself more than other plants did, feels earned.