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b e c o m i n g

stream of consciousness

By Kristen BalyeatPublished 5 months ago • Updated 2 months ago • 1 min read
weathered | ripened | becoming

we are allowed to evolve

to indulge in

the ways

we are changed

by every delicious

passing minute

to become

so enchanted by living

we stop reading

the lines around our eyes

as a eulogy to youth

but honor them

as sacred engravings

of a life fully devoured

evidence of years

split open by laughter

proof that we felt so deeply

time covered us

in its fingerprints

etching its maps into our skin

through the depth

of our journey

one iteration at a time

undone by grief

dimpled by joy

weathered by awe

ripened by love

wild-haired by the wind

salted by the sea

cracked anew by sunlight

and bursting with transformation

we are allowed

to unfold like a flower

to wear hard-won wisdom

like a crown

forged

through experience

a sacred adornment

woven

into our locks

as proof

we have danced

in the moonlight

survived the unraveling

and remaking

of ourselves

over

and over

and over

again

altered with every ebb

and flow of emergence

we are free

to be fierce

to be supple

to be soft

around the edges

to thrive

without carving ourselves

down

to fit the world’s

shape

without sacrificing

one more precious moment

at the altar of shame

we are not a bushel

of mistakes

to be corrected

not a bouquet of

mishaps meant

for pruning

we are not ruins

but relics of becoming

our uniqueness

a luminous script

our bodies

vessels

shifting and morphing

as life gifts us

another season

forward

in this beautiful

reliquary lit

with constellations

from all the sunrises

and sunsets we have witnessed

our authentic resonance

reverberating

through this temple

as an offering of gratitude

to existence

so let us feel the pulse

of time beside our own

and call it a privilege

let us worship

every lived-in corner

of ourselves

and let us swoon

over the regalia

of a life

wholly

embodied

inspirationalStream of ConsciousnessGratitudesocial commentary

About the Creator

Kristen Balyeat

Words fly to me on the wind, bump me as I'm strolling the city, splash me in the face while I rest by the river, and shake me awake in the middle of the night—I’m humbly one of the vessels they use to come to life.

Also, i love you:)

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    Written by Kristen Balyeat