“And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.”

~ Anaiis Nin

Seed born from its firmly rooted mother; open and vulnerable to the surrounding world.

Exquisite being of becoming encased in malleable armor.

Deep into the soil of Earth…Seed is safe and consumed by the nourishing darkness of promises unknown.

Down…down…down…

Into the depths; heeding the call of the heartbeat; listening…

~ ~ ~

A sparkle at first…then a whisper…becoming heart song of knowing sings to the tiny seed, “It is time little one.”

Armor has become compost to the vision; to the truth of what is next.

None of us are made for stagnancy.

Up…up…up!

Towards the light, towards the knowing, towards the truth of becoming.

There is no need for armor. It IS time. HERE I AM!

She blossoms.