Surrender.

Make peace of this mess. This strewn about chaos. Make peace.

Surrender.

The whispering winds are not always gentle. A resuscitating pulse turns to a beat in the hollow drum of my rib cage. My heart is alive again, raw and booming out of my chest. Then- it becomes urgent.

Surrender.

There is no giving up. There is no giving in. This is a sacred whisper-turned-heart-pounding-impossible-to-ignore calling that inspires only the most reverent and holy bowing-down.

Surrender.

Humbled and bent low, I flow like a sacred river, emptying myself into myself… until I finally choose release. Letting go.

Surrendering.

So this holy well may be full again.