What if hidden does not mean forgotten, and even when form changes, identity does not?
When a little sunflower seed is suddenly taken from the Gardener’s workbench, scratched, and dropped into the dark soil, it begins to believe something has gone wrong. But in the dark, roots begin to grow, truth begins to rise, and the seed slowly learns that silence is not the same as distance, wounds do not change worth, and hidden seasons are not empty seasons.

