Grounding One,
O Divine Flourishing,
with the plow of your grace
till me, soften me, aerate me.
Uproot my prickly vines
of fear and want.
Let the seeds of you
be buried in me,
break
open
in me.
Sprout mightily,
little green fingers, so strong,
feel your way through me
toward light,
toward fruit.
Let the great flourishing
begin.
__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
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