My poem for this painting:

There is a moment when what you carry inside
begins to reach the air.

Not announced.
Not explained.
Not justified.
But unmistakable —
like a soft, delicate fragrance
finding its way into a room.

Rose, for the love you finally allowed yourself.
Gardenia, for the depth you are no longer willing to conceal.
Freesia, for the trust that it is safe to be honest with yourself.
Jasmine, for the awakening — the soul beginning to bloom.

You have been distilling yourself for years —
releasing what no longer served you,
keeping only what was true.

This is your essence.
This is what remains.
This is the scent of becoming everything you were born to be.