Some days I wake as ocean glass,

smooth from storms I’ve let now pass.

The world can knock, but I remain—

a breath, a hush, a gentle flame.

 

Other days, I strike like dawn,

unruly light the dark leans on.

I do not ask—I simply am,

fiercely rising, the way I stand.

 

There are days I wake as sky—

spacious, blue, and asking why.

And 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,

holding space for all of me.

 

So when I wake, I do not fear

the self that dares or disappears.

Each step I take toward being free—

for many mornings live in me.