“It Is Written”
I thought I was in a waiting season—
until I realized I wasn’t waiting at all.
The tree doesn’t stop being alive when its leaves fall.
It is still rooted. Still breathing. Still becoming.
So am I.
I do not need a title to claim the life I desire.
I need faith.
I need creativity.
I need to be barefoot in the becoming.
Blooming is not seasonal.
It is the quiet unfolding of belief.
It is the way I feed my thoughts,
the way I speak to myself when no one’s listening.
It is the way I look within and find a
home I once sought everywhere else.
This is not about finding.
It is about remembering.
The childhood dreams.
The innocent courage.
The sacred unlearning.
The truth that my soul has never forgotten:
I am not lost. I am aligned. Because it is written.