If I could teach you how to live, I’d plant a dream inside your heart and gently fold the earth around its flesh. I’d water it with pools of laughter, sweet and coaxing in the secret of your smile.
When it grows warm and wide and tender, I’d open up the seed that has sprouted from the soil of your soul and lay it out before the sun, where a drop or two of promises will climb into its core and take root in your veins. I’d watch your hopes unfurl, delicate and dazzling and reaching to the sky to stretch your newfound faith.
For you have found that fire, that sparkle in your eyes that bursts and blooms from many sleepless hours under a pale, moonless night. Now, light has lain upon your breast, sifted through the layers where your deepest inspiration danced to find its melody. Now, the music rises, now the life has been unleashed outside the walls in which you kept yourself imprisoned. In this star-studded symphony you have grown into your waiting grace and gladness.
You live, a rich and ruby pulsing through the chambers of your garden, once small and sorely tended, now big and bright and brimming and swims above the heights that you have risen.
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