I am learning to trust time,

not as something to outrun,

but as something that knows me.

I no longer rush my healing

or force meaning out of moments

that are still forming.

Some things need darkness

before they understand light.

There are days I feel unfinished,

and days I finally understand

that unfinished does not mean broken.

It means alive.

It means still in motion.

I am learning that patience is not passive.

It is an active choice

to remain gentle with myself

while I grow.

I am becoming familiar with my own presence.

The way I sit with silence.

The way I listen inward.

The way I no longer fear stillness.

And when I look at who I am becoming,

I see nothing dramatic —

only something true.

I am becoming,

quietly,

in time.