Self love is the best form of love

We are indeed a garden that needs to be tended regularly, plucking out our sins and flaws and planting the seeds of connection grown in the furrows. The fertile lands of our growth are borrowed from the ancestors whose stories are passed from ear to ear like fables, the fragrance passed from one bay laced fingers to another. The recipes of those gracing the sepia-tinged books of my granny. Love jumping hoops for generations. We are constantly keeping the sands moist, crumbled enough to grow those puny saplings of joy and abandon. If your heart is scorched and parched you cannot be a source of solace to anyone around you. Nourished and moistened through the love which emanates from you. The unfettered shower of kindness which should be pointed towards you first before anyone else. This ochre shade of kindness emanating from you is the glow of unbridled knowledge of your ancestors guiding you through their love, and like a firefly in the night burning and living through the trials and tribulations. You survive and you grow. The cerulean hue shines likes a patina on your skin carrying the warmth of the Gaia, the sustenance your soul desires. You as a whole exists, you cannot exist in parts. You need to be loved before anyone else. Growth can only happen if your soil is fertile enough to sustain anything. You grow through your desires, you exist because of self-love.