I used to think some seeds would never sprout. That some ground was too barren, too hard, too far gone. I would look at certain places and think, “Nothing could ever grow there.” How strange to be so sure about impossibility.

Once, I may have witnessed the extraordinary: something like a flower blossoming through stone, roots intertwined with destiny, challenging my perceptions of the possible.

Perhaps the hard ground doesn’t resist rejection but instead needs time to unfold. As seasons shift and leaves descend, something remarkable can still arise from the rugged earth.

Wrapped in sorrow, words are token.

I’ve observed the steadfast ground opening, uncovering hidden clarity. Were these treasures simply dormant, or were they patiently awaiting discovery? At what moment does the improbable transform into certainty?

I should not stick to ideas and miss my opportunities.

Could it be that the hollow space just reveals potential I cannot understand? A desert is not lifeless; there is a pulse I find challenging to comprehend.

Even the most unyielding surface may bring forth a gentle truth. My restrictive thoughts contain fears that impede me. Are my beliefs regarding what’s impossible merely illusions I cling to?

And your wise men don’t know how it feels…

What if reality doesn’t demand struggle? It may be more about meeting myself—a meeting that waits in silence. It may take considerable time and require cycles and patience, but becoming who I am in life should be a natural right, just waiting to be fulfilled.

I am not a resource; I don’t need a purpose.

Everyone carries this potential, regardless of how deeply it is buried. Each person appears in infinite chances, whether they show up today or after endless waiting. Everyone is both the soil and the seed, the pressure and the diamond, the waiting and the arrival.

You are always welcome.