Every word of this is
like a gentle hand strumming strings inside.
"to allow my living to open me"
makes me feel pressure in my eyes
where I think my tear ducts reside.
"to loosen my heart until it becomes a wing, a torch, a promise"
causes a catch in my breath,
and a rise in my shoulders envisioning wings.
What torch will I carry?
What promise do I make to myself or others?
and
"I choose to risk my significance so that
which came to me as a seed
goes to the rest as blossom. . ."
Consider the seeds buried within.
Give what they need to flourish.
Give thought to blossomings
pass them along wherever possible.
kastilwell
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