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The tide keeps returning to shore

The trees do not rush toward spring

The river never apologizes for changing course

Even the wildflowers know when to bloom

The moon disappears without truly leaving

The forest keeps teaching me how to stay

The rain returns to the earth without hesitation

The shoreline keeps every version of the tide

The sky makes room for every changing season

The roots still grow beneath the frozen ground

The ocean does not question its own depth

The light reaches even the forest floor eventually

The wind moves freely because it does not cling

The mountains are shaped slowly by weather and time

The earth does not bloom all at once

The stars remain even when hidden by clouds

The waves keep arriving exactly as they are

The forest does not ask permission to grow wild

The dawn never hurries its own arrival

The river carries forward without becoming less itself

Something in me is learning to soften

I am becoming familiar to myself again

There are parts of me still growing where I can’t see

I no longer force what needs gentleness

I am learning the shape of my own voice again

Some doors inside me are opening slowly

I carry both wilderness and tenderness within me

I am no longer afraid of my becoming

What is meant for me does not force itself

I am learning to stay beside myself

Something ancient in me is waking softly

I no longer abandon myself to belong

My softness has survived every season so far

The path appeared once I stopped forcing the direction

I trust what unfolds in its own timing

I am letting the quieter truths rise first

I am returning to the places within me that still feel alive

I am learning to meet myself without looking away

Some things heal slowly and still become beautiful

I have begun listening to what my inner world needs