Some days I wake as ocean glass,
smooth from storms I have now let pass.
The world can knock, but I remain—
a breath, a hush, a gentle flame.
 
Other days, I strike like dawn,
unruly ray the dark leans on.
I do not ask—I simply am,
fiercely rising, the way I stand.
 
There are some days I wake as sky—
so spacious, blue, and asking why.
There are hours I arrive as fire,
lit from dreams and deep desire.
 
Not one of these is less “divine”—
each pulse, each tone, is simply mine.
I do not fix, suppress, or bend—
I welcome who I am again.
 
Today I burn, but soft and wise,
no smoke, no scream—just star in rise.
And yesterday, I was the sea,
just holding space for all of me.
 
So when I wake, I do not fear
the self that dares or disappears.
Each step I take to being free—
for many mornings live in me.