. . .
Peeling away the layers, trying to reach the center of Me
like an onion, they say, or the artichoke,
pulling off the pointy tough outer leaves, one by one,
tell me I am
to the heart.
But also, what if, rather than working from the outside in,
I am working from the inside out,
like a seed, a flower, a blossom,
ever-opening, the petals unfurling,
in lush expression
from the center,
infinitely radiating outward.
Sometimes opening with gratitude, ease, bliss
Sometimes afraid to continue opening—so painful, raw, & tender
and yet it continues, Source moving through me,
blossoming forth, some petals wilting, falling away,
others freshly unfolding,
the fragrance unknowable,
and still I try to inhale Her scent
as She shines out through me.
I fall away.
Unfolding into fullness of mySelf.