Change needn’t be justifiable,

Not when spring,

Can ever so gracefully,

Bloom into summer.

Not when harsh snow,

Can soften into rain,

And bare branches can bud.

Not every stage is identifiable,

Like those muddy months,

Where the world begins to regrow,

But the bite of winter still lingers.

What is change,

If not a natural cycle?

The seasons will turn,

And we shall turn with them,

As sweet as May’s blossoms,

And as strong as the November tides.

Be like the seasons, my dear,

For your change is not a shame.

Do not carry your evolution like a burden,

When even the earth reflects,

Your subtle shifts.

You are the river that forever flows,

The cycle of the wilderness,

So embrace your changes,

And be proud of every stage,

You may front.