Secret gardens blossoming on the outer sleeve.
What have we been planting?
Rolling up my cuffs gonna tackle this stuff,
It’s time for some internal weeding.
Digging deep, going for broke,
aiming for the root this time.
Tap in just in time to catch the battle cry…
shifting wind blowing in from all sides,
so many tides rising just to try me on for size.
While I step into what’s in dire need of tending.
The fight rages on around me but I started something,
and won’t stop until the war’s on track for winning.
On my hands and knees pulling rotten weeds from the soil within me.
Wrestling with the pig of has-beens has me craving uplifting company.
In this fight within I’ve been changing my ways almost daily, metamorphosing.
Shapeshifter tossed right into the sea
left flipping through past versions of me.
Each mirroring something I needed to see.
Picking between the weeds and the wheat.
Beautifying internally…
has me hungry for the best fruits I’ve seen.
Searching internal galaxies for things beyond me.
Sorting through each based on its merit to me and my surroundings.
Quality over quantity perception test, check yes.
Out of the blue and long overdue? Both. Yes.
Replanting seeds that pass the test in serving my best.
Leaving room for the new to grow into me.
Hoarding things past good or bad leads to a sliver in the eye,
sentimentality toward them turns it to a log sucking the life from the present.
What kind of dreams manifests from wearing has-beens like a mask?
This type of gardening is therapy
food for the human psyche.
Exposing thin skin to naked sunrays.
Reminding me, to let my best shine through always.
No matter my condition, giving to the best of my ability.
No more and no less than my means.
Taking a breath and a moment to plant my feet
and dig into the thoughts arising
can be earth-shaking, even shattering
the process shook me, but sometimes it takes a quaking to break free
and illuminate deeper dimensions, brighter insight, like;
*Maybe I’ve been holding on to weeds,
because shedding how I have been,
scares me.
The simple truth turning over a new leaf,
exposing another version being released from duty.
A parasite clinging to my insides for dear life
but what’s coming alive won’t be clung onto…
every last tendril goodbye,
Time to fly while this pile of weeds
is turned to fire food.
“Thank you for walking the wire with me.
But I need the balance you’ve been stealing.
You gotta leave for this part of the journey.
I accept the lesson as its reflection
is accepted by the growing flames
glowing warm against my face.