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The Pulse of Becoming
There's a moment not a second in time, but a shift,
a break from the tug-of-war with the world,
where you stop begging for scraps of approval
and instead, become the feast.
You shed the weight of waiting,
the self that bent for someone else's gaze,
and you stand, naked in your truth
anointed by your own hands.
This is where it begins.
Not the hustle, not the hunger,
but the fullness of presence,
the light that once flickered inside you
now roars, unchecked, a wildfire of enoughness.
No more running from mirrors
or molding yourself into what they might love.
No more thirsting for the gaze of others
as though it could define the edges of your worth.
Instead, you shape yourself,
hold yourself, be with yourself.
In this stillness,
the world finally takes notice.
Not of what you chased, but what you are.
Suddenly, the current pulls toward you
people who don't just fit into your life,
but match your rhythm, your pulse, your fire.
The striving, the forcing, it all fades.
Instead, there's flow,
the universe turning on its axis,
slowly bending toward the centre you've found within.
And what once felt distant,
something to earn with sweat and sacrifice,
now arrives, effortless in its timing,
perfect in its place.
You don't rise to meet the world
the world rises to meet you.
And everything that matters
falls into step with the beat of your becoming.
Because the light inside you is no longer a flicker.
It's a sun,
and the whole world blooms beneath it.
