2.27.26 // I want the world to change me

I want the world to change me.
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Not in the way the ocean throws waves back and forth, restless and repeating, surface noise mistaking itself for transformation.
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Not in the way a glacier stands frozen... unwilling, unwanting, unmoving... cold and callused with unshaken opinions, ancient but untouched.
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I want the world to change me the way Mother Nature moves moisture through the water cycle.
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I want to rise, invisible and weightless, through warm air that smells like salt and soil. I want to gather in the sky, suspended, becoming something I wasn’t before.
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I want to crystallize when the air turns sharp. To form slowly, intricately, like a snowflake, shaped by positive pressure, temperature, conditions I did not choose but allowed.
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I want to fall heavy over desert heat. To darken dry earth, soak in, and nourish something cracked and waiting.

I want to move again. To slip into a stream, to feel the pull of gravity under my ribs, to rush toward a waterfall with surrender instead of resistance.
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I want to shift as I learn and grow as I feel. I want to be changed because I let myself feel, unwilling to harden or be battered into something smaller by every passing storm.
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I want to be shaped in the way a human life is meant to be shaped, with full access to the spectrum of being, blissfully able to experience emotions that stretch beyond the limits of language and spill past the edges of what words can hold, able to feel joy widen my chest and grief hollow it, to let awe quiet me and love undo me.
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Changed not into something rigid, but into something alive.