Regularly poetic

Here we sprout,

wrapped in a shell with no exit—

peeling each layer

that feeds our growth.

The wind spirals passion

just out of reach,

and shame twists into controversy,

born from misplaced focus—

fueling storms we never meant to stir.

Since planted,

demise seemed inevitable,

unfairness—clear and sharp.

But the path,

though scattered with damage,

exists to lift the spirit

tethered to strength.

Here we sprout again,

unraveling the weight of turmoil—

only to find blessings

we never imagined

at its core.

Now, the view clears—

opening the door to abundance,

unchaining hesitation,

giving rise

to fearless freedom.

Here,

we’ve sprouted.