I carry a vision, not yet fully formed, but alive within me—

a seed stretching toward the light.

As I grow, my rhythm changes,

and so do my priorities, my path, my pace.

This season of becoming need not be feared.

Transition is not a breaking—it is a soft unfolding.

Nothing is fixed. Nothing asks for perfection.

I am allowed to bend, to bloom, to begin again.

I can rewrite the story.

New rules. New dreams.

A fresh language for boundaries,

a reimagined map of goals.

What the last chapter taught me was sacred—

a stepping stone, not a destination.

It served me, shaped me,

but it does not bind me.

Now, I rise into a different dawn.

I shift how I walk through the world.

I speak with new intention,

choose with clarity,

and meet each day

as an artist meets the canvas—

brush in hand, heart open,

ready to sculpt the future I see.