04/05/2025
No one whispers of the quiet alchemy in your 30s and 40s—
how thrill turns tender, and fervor wears softer shoes.
Excitement, once electric, now leaves a hum of fatigue.
Silence, once awkward, becomes a velvet refuge.
Solitude no longer echoes with fear—
it sings with the sacred rhythm of your own breath.
This is not collapse, but a becoming.
Not a crisis, but a lantern lit within.
Your flame still burns—
you’ve simply learned the art of tending it gently,
sheltering it from winds that no longer deserve your fire.
