I wish I could say I am no longer a seeker of approval, but that is not the case,
For it is a facet of myself that cannot be filled in or completely reconstructed.
However I now make leaps with fewer calculations,
98% certain that my wings will unfold upon feeling the gust of the next unknown.
I am no longer a hoarder of my talents, I create and toss it out into the world,
And I learn from it, the good, the bad, and the ugly; all of it.
I no longer feel like a dandelion puff at the mercy of the wind and the rain,
Beautiful but out of control,
For I now ground myself within myself.
My roots have learned to cultivate a home in many different soils.
The woman writing today has built herself upon the many past versions of herself,
Of the countless skins she has shed as sacrifice.
Grateful to lay old layers to rest,
Grateful for refinement,
For the digging it takes,
For becoming more of myself with every passing day.
For it is a facet of myself that cannot be filled in or completely reconstructed.
However I now make leaps with fewer calculations,
98% certain that my wings will unfold upon feeling the gust of the next unknown.
I am no longer a hoarder of my talents, I create and toss it out into the world,
And I learn from it, the good, the bad, and the ugly; all of it.
I no longer feel like a dandelion puff at the mercy of the wind and the rain,
Beautiful but out of control,
For I now ground myself within myself.
My roots have learned to cultivate a home in many different soils.
The woman writing today has built herself upon the many past versions of herself,
Of the countless skins she has shed as sacrifice.
Grateful to lay old layers to rest,
Grateful for refinement,
For the digging it takes,
For becoming more of myself with every passing day.