Seed

(Verse 1 – spare, intimate)

There is a kind of pain

that doesn’t feel personal

It lives deeper than memory

A reflex

A way of turning from myself

before I know I’m doing it

An old imprint

A seed carried forward

Pressed into this lifetime

Before I had language

Before I knew shame

⸻

(Verse 2 – gentle shift)

For a long time

I thought the seed was the problem

That if I could remove it

Heal it enough

I would finally be free

But seeds don’t decide how they grow

They respond to the ground

That holds them

⸻

(Refrain – light, repeatable)

Shame isn’t what blooms

Shame is the soil

And soil can change

Shame isn’t what blooms

Shame is the soil

And soil can change

⸻

(Verse 3 – opening)

What if healing

isn’t erasing what was planted

What if it’s letting myself grow

anyway

To bloom is not passive

It asks something of me

To move

To risk expression

To stop living as what buried me

⸻

(Verse 4 – embodied truth)

I am not the seed anymore

I am what the seed became

And yes, there is fear here

That opening will repeat the past

That growth will find the same wound

In a different shape

⸻

(Bridge – devotional, quiet)

But a flower does not return to being a seed

It becomes the place

Where new life forms

The cycle doesn’t repeat

It continues

Differently

⸻

(Outro – prayerful, spacious)

From here

Creation feels less like effort

More like participation

Something moves through me

Not to correct what was

But to reclaim what is

This is how I begin again

Blooming