Becoming
We shed our skin from time to time,
Letting go of our winter coats.
We molt our fears and start to climb,
Breaking free—our chrysalis floats.
We cannot suffice to just be.
We are becoming.
It’s not enough to wait and see.
We are becoming.
We are a race of humans being,
Not a race of humans been.
Like Heraclitus’ rivers fleeing—
Always caught in-between.
We cannot stay in this joint.
We are becoming.
We see that change is the point.
We are becoming.
We never arrive at one destination.
The journey shifts our view.
Stay on the train past its station—
Always outsider, always true.
We cannot stay and conform.
We are becoming.
We thrive outside the norm.
We are becoming.
Every breath, each passing hour—
A new self joins the procession.
No one requested this power,
Yet we choose each new confession.
Remember: we are the rolling stone.
We are becoming.
We do not shift all on our own.
We are becoming.
We recall the words of John Donne.
As iron sharpens iron, so do we.
We shape, mold, fracture, run—
Connected, broken, wild, and free.
