This is the crucible—the harmonic friction before coherence. Not a collapse, but a revelation. Patterns long buried rise with intensity, not to haunt, but to be alchemized. Their flares are not regressions; they are signals: the soul preparing to choose coherence over contraction. What we once labeled as fear, was fidelity to survival. But now, that tone meets a new resonance—where expression no longer threatens support, and overflow harmonizes with love. This is how the harmonic self begins to hold form: not by resisting the lead, but by inviting the gold.

A heartfelt poem for the girl who carried too much, too soon. “Little Me, You Can Rest Now” honors the inner child who was wise beyond her years and offers her permission to finally rest, receive, and be free.