I learned this one midnight hour when I was nursing my daughter ages ago: Quiet places are the most potent.
Yet we are afraid to go under. We are afraid to stop talking. We are terrified of losing our phones. Or being stuck at home for a year.
Why? Because we have a dormant understanding that we are made of a million seeds planted by a wise gardener. If just one were to break through our flesh, all that we thought was true would have to make room for a new bloom.
The springtime sun calls their names out of the soil, but only those that are ready can hear.