The dark, frozen, oppressing winter gone.

Spring.

I stand in the light, let it warm me. I feel my juices start to flow. Tears. They water my soul, bringing it to fruition. Soaking into the seed of love that lies there, causing it to stir. The bud starting to plump, the stem lengthening, pushing the bud closer to the sun.

I wish I could say this was painless. Its not. I have this hard shell around me. It is armour that I have thickened over the winter. It is there to keep out the cold, I thought. What in effect it has done is to keep me small. I was not watered, fed, nurtured. I lay dormant like one of those plants in the desert. You know, the ones that don’t grow or flower for years, till there is enough rain.

I crack, break, split, and shatter, as the flower issues forth into the world, my husk dropping around me, to lay, withered at my feet. My love new, full, and vibrant.. The petals red, engorged with life.

What to do with this flower ? I could stand hear, and say, look, but don’t touch, its my flower ! I can’t. There are others who haven’t had a chance to flower, they stand still in that dark place. shivering in abandonment.

Please, take a petal, or two. I offer it so you can find that spot in your soul, and start to flower. I can’t give it to you. You have to reach out, and grab it for yourself. I will help you tend your flower, I’ll show you what I have learned. Together we can nurture our blossoms. There is still danger here. I can forget to do the work, tilling the soul, nourishing it with the program, and you. I then stand alone, and eventually my petals lose their lustre. My blossom starts to wither, and droop. Soon I die.

My dream is to one day look around.  As far as my eyes can see, only blossoms.