"Before the World Wakes" (Image & Text Copyright Wylddane Productions, LLC)
"Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul—and sings the tune without the words—and never stops at all." ~Emily Dickinson
This morning began with a softness, the kind only found in the quiet breath before dawn. The air was thick with humidity, promising the sticky embrace of a typical June day. Yet in that gentle, liminal hour—when the sky is still undecided between night and morning—I wandered through my garden. Dew clung to my feet, a cool and silvery balm, as if the earth itself had whispered blessings into the blades of grass.
And then, I saw it.
An iris, in full, glorious bloom. Its petals unfurled like a whisper of wonder—deep reds, vibrant pinks, soft purples, and a touch of glowing gold. My first thought was simple and pure: “How beautiful you are.” The kind of beauty that startles you into presence. That insists you forget, for a moment, the heaviness of headlines or the noise of worry. This flower—this delicate masterpiece of nature—was a gift. A vivid reminder that life still blooms, even in uncertain times.
In that moment, I was lifted to a different plane, away from fear and toward something far more sacred—hope.
There is power in beauty. Not the beauty sold to us or manufactured, but the kind that appears without pretense. The kind found in a single flower blooming quietly before the world wakes. That iris became a symbol, not just of the season’s richness, but of the possibilities each day holds. It reminded me that I am not just a passive observer in this life—I am a co-creator, a divine being walking the earth with spiritual gifts that matter.
I may not always know where my skills, my heart, or my hopes will be needed most. But I trust the inner compass, that sacred knowing within, to lead me to where light is needed. My task is not to control the outcome, but to move forward in faith—to offer my presence, my words, my creations—as seeds of peace.
Hope is not a fragile thing. It is resilient. It blooms in gardens. It lives in kindness. It survives the storms. And it is always waiting to rise again, just as that iris rose this morning—unexpected and radiant.
So today, I walk forward with trust. I release the pressure to have all the answers. I do what I can, from where I am, and then I let go. I surrender to divine timing, knowing that I do not walk alone.
And in the stillness, I hear it—a whisper from the universe, soft as morning light:
“Bloom where you are. The world needs your hope.”
~Wylddane
This morning began with a softness, the kind only found in the quiet breath before dawn. The air was thick with humidity, promising the sticky embrace of a typical June day. Yet in that gentle, liminal hour—when the sky is still undecided between night and morning—I wandered through my garden. Dew clung to my feet, a cool and silvery balm, as if the earth itself had whispered blessings into the blades of grass.
And then, I saw it.
An iris, in full, glorious bloom. Its petals unfurled like a whisper of wonder—deep reds, vibrant pinks, soft purples, and a touch of glowing gold. My first thought was simple and pure: “How beautiful you are.” The kind of beauty that startles you into presence. That insists you forget, for a moment, the heaviness of headlines or the noise of worry. This flower—this delicate masterpiece of nature—was a gift. A vivid reminder that life still blooms, even in uncertain times.
In that moment, I was lifted to a different plane, away from fear and toward something far more sacred—hope.
There is power in beauty. Not the beauty sold to us or manufactured, but the kind that appears without pretense. The kind found in a single flower blooming quietly before the world wakes. That iris became a symbol, not just of the season’s richness, but of the possibilities each day holds. It reminded me that I am not just a passive observer in this life—I am a co-creator, a divine being walking the earth with spiritual gifts that matter.
I may not always know where my skills, my heart, or my hopes will be needed most. But I trust the inner compass, that sacred knowing within, to lead me to where light is needed. My task is not to control the outcome, but to move forward in faith—to offer my presence, my words, my creations—as seeds of peace.
Hope is not a fragile thing. It is resilient. It blooms in gardens. It lives in kindness. It survives the storms. And it is always waiting to rise again, just as that iris rose this morning—unexpected and radiant.
So today, I walk forward with trust. I release the pressure to have all the answers. I do what I can, from where I am, and then I let go. I surrender to divine timing, knowing that I do not walk alone.
And in the stillness, I hear it—a whisper from the universe, soft as morning light:
“Bloom where you are. The world needs your hope.”
~Wylddane
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