Unseen, unheard, and untouched,
Life flourishes when resting in
The gentle cradle of the spirit,
Far away from the hands of men.
In the tender womb of silence,
A seed matures into a sprout,
A bud develops into a blossom,
And a flower evolves into a fruit.
Out of the spring of stillness,
An array of lively hues emerge,
Adorning the bloom with beauty
Surpassing all human imitation.
As the seasons cycle and evolve,
Flavors brewed within the spirit
Seep into the fruit’s soft flesh—
Mellow, complex, and exquisite.
The essence animating all things
Continues to nourish and foster,
Sustaining creation as it ripens
And enters into its own fullness.
Can you stop to hear the sound
Of life blooming and maturing?
It is a resonant eternal silence
Filled to the brim with being.
p.s. Leave a comment if this resonated with you. I love to hear your stories!
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