You were never meant to bloom in sterile waters.

Your beauty is made possible because of the muck.

The dark places, the weight of old roots, the decay of what once was…all of it gave rise to you.

The lotus doesn’t resist the mud.
It rises through it.

Not despite your struggle, but because of it, you grow.

You stretch.
You break through.

Let the mess hold meaning. 

Let your bloom be your becoming.