The Shape of Change

Beneath the hush of early light, A soul once lost begins its flight, No trumpet calls, no roaring flame Just breath, and bone, and silent name. The mirror shows a face once known, But eyes now seek what lies alone Beyond the noise, beyond the game, Beyond the need for praise or blame. Change does not shout, it slowly bends Like rivers carving mountains' ends, It whispers through the aching skin, "Begin again. Begin within." The boy who slept through passing days Now meets the sun with steady gaze, His muscles ache, his fingers burn The body speaks: “You live, you learn.” Each push, each breath, each chosen still Is proof of flame beneath the will. No past can bind the one who wakes, The Way forgives. The Way remakes. So step, not fast, but fully true The old dissolves, the soul breaks through. You are not broken. You are clay. And change, dear one, has found its way.