Dew of the Unbound

The wind whispers ancient refrains,

a melody winding through endless fields—

a soft stirring that awakens quiet secrets.

Under open skies and wild horizons,

the earth bursts in hues of gold, violet, ember —

a bloom that ignites without consuming.

I’ve seen roots defy expectation,

twisting through stone and silence,

turning neglect into a vibrant song.

Perhaps we too are rebels of the soil.

yearning for light with unlearned grace—

daring to grow where none expected.

As the heavens exhale and the ground shifts,

I understand.

it isn’t about belonging or being chosen—

it’s about flourishing, boldly, like the stars

claiming their space without remorse.