A World Anew


In the garden of the self, where once shadows dwelt,
A seed stirred beneath the frost of yesteryears.
Tender shoots, braving the chill of early doubts,
Reach for the sun with dreams cradled in their veins.

Beneath skies washed by the hues of dawn,
Petals unfurl, as if touched by joy’s own hand,
Colors burst forth, vibrant as a painter’s first palette,
Each shade a whisper of possibilities new-found.

The blossom stands bold, in the light of its becoming,
No longer a mere spectator to the dance of life.
With every breeze, it sways—a symphony of grace,
In the orchestra of the enlightened, it finds its place.

Eyes open to the spectrum of a world once grey,
Now drenched in the hues of understanding and love.
Like the first brush of warmth that follows winter’s fade,
The soul sees color in the light of its own brave bloom.

This journey, this unfurling of wings long-folded,
Brings forth the self, not new, but true—
Revealed at last, in the full glory of its form,
A masterpiece once hidden, now vividly transformed.

 


 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Hands Not Held

The Gift of Becoming

Awakening Light