{growing dreams}

There are moments.  Flailing stretches of docility that halt you still.  Bringing your impact and momentum to its wilting knees, you unveil your inner offerings.  Open to touch.  Open to see. The brawny gusto that once boasted fullness & glory-bound vigor now clings to a history of strength. Fragile takes on new meaning.  One more akin to decomposition rather than aesthetic prowess.

It's in these moments where real is born.  Through the clouded consumption of society, work and home, you wrestle this very tenderness of person. Subtly you capsize into those very dreams you rooted.  You question your calling.  Your pleasures and your pains.  And it's in the very petals that leave you, you abandon the beauty of growth.

It's humanity.  It's the soft spots. The frailties. Those imperfections gaining momentum there as the petals fall.  Frantic you move in hopes of self preservation.  Yes, shuffle quicker perhaps no one will see. Plan faster and hope higher too.  Yet, dying is inevitable.  It's in these fleeting moments of dissension that we gasp for nutrients with desperate hopes for repair.

Drop.  Release.  Un-claim your glory.  There, in the demise, you shift.  Unsurmountable vulnerability transforms.  In the wilting and the waning, you begin again.  Fresh life.  Ready & anxious.  Seeds of hope hide inside.  It's in that very weakness of self, the opening and leaving, that you can inhale tomorrow. Potential lies not in the petals, but in the ability to stand full soaking in the real & breathing around you.  Growing dreams. Open to touch. Open to see. Fullness can be once more.

.mac :)