You say you have nothing to give and yet I'm full after one glance. You say you're rough around the edges and yet I'm calm after one touch. You say your roots are broken but what I see is vast and barren land. You say your baggage is heavy but what I see is love that could use a hand. You tell me about the world's ugly As I sit in wonder and see Beauty reflected in broken glass— Your middle finger to the world. A rose growing in desert sand An orchid sprouting from molten rock A sunflower stretching from unlit cave You say you can't carry on And yet You keep figuring out a way. You say you don't like flowers And yet There you are—a most beautiful bouquet.
I help busy people do inner work.