Letting the flowers of being climb up my foot, my ankle, my leg…
into my root,
into my belly, my chest, lighting up my bones,
peeking and blossoming out the sides of my rib basket.
Climbing, growing, reaching up to and through my throat.
Kissing my voice, freeing… with tenderness,
the lump in my throat I have been carrying.
Freeing my soul,
to speak, to be…
the flowering of
Climb, climb, climb up through my third eye.
Climb, climb, climb.
I celebrate your blossoming and your rise.
Grow from the ash of what needed to be burned.
Growing from the ash of what needed to be burned.
The flowers of Love,
Jazzy working her transmuting magic on flowers of hope rising ;).