A small warning: These words flow in a slow, hypnotic tide. If you’re the kind of mind that drifts with the waves, choose your footing before you wade in.
you didn’t fall.
you came close to the edge.
when the induction begins,
something in you loosens.
the hard, bristling core
begins to unfurl—
like a rose deciding, at last,
its thorns are no longer necessary.
its bravery melts
into each gesture of the guide.
the hypnotist.
think of a gardener
who sows and tends.
the seeds placed in your mind
are given loving attention.
they are reinforced,
command after gentle command.
nourished with praise,
if that is what you need.
fed with clear instruction,
if all you want is to obey.
sheltered from difficult choices,
as from a cruel wind.
and the seed of potential
begins to germinate.
from that hidden treasure
emerges a mind that can be shaped,
that grows,
inevitably,
toward the sun.
a rose, deep red—or perhaps soft pink.
a rose without thorns.
hypnosis does not force you.
it asks you
to do something you already want to do.
that is why the thorns are unnecessary.
you didn’t fall.
you only came close to the edge.
perhaps you are not a rose at all.
perhaps you are a sunflower,
turning,
your axis the steady voice
that feeds your roots.