I'll Take it All

A new slick leaf unfurling into a palm--not grasping, just receiving the morning dew and the ache of becoming.

It does not ask if the sun will scorch or the wind will tear--it opens anyway, tender and green with trust.

I'll take it all--the soft beginnings, the stretch and strain, the dirt beneath my fingernails and the sky in my lungs.

I'll take the silence and the song, the waiting and the wild bloom.

This is how the rooted rise--not in haste, but in surrender.