Letters to you, my dear. #6
The season is in transition, my dear. Old identities no longer serving my becoming. A blossom of sovereignty sparks internally. I pack my belongings, I release circled patterns that kept me confined from my expression, my design. An expired narrative I journey off to rewrite. May we cross paths high above the mountain, or perhaps meet at a café for a chat. Soon I will drift amongst the stars, wander of humanities existence. Recalling memories that fill me with laughter, optimism, love, and peace. Recreating a world from with in, Exploring the world so with out. A breath held deep within longing for that sigh of relief. A gentle hand to heart for all that will continue to prosper leading me in love, with love, through love. I shall not wait any longer, the time has come.