You hesitate to share.
“Too many voices already,” you think.
Then comparison dims your spark.
You wonder if your gift even matters.
So you hold back.
A flower looked across the meadow and thought,
“There are too many here. They don’t need me.”
But the bees still searched.
The wind still made room.
And the field wasn’t complete,
until she bloomed.
Your art doesn’t compete.
It completes.
Your gift isn’t extra.
It’s missing – until you give it.