You have been through a lot. So much that you can hardly recall. Your physical body is like a map or legend for a map. You have been both walking and leading the way. Your journey is embedded in the tiny lines that form around your well-worn smile. It is the kind of smile that draws sweetness from the inside and makes sturdy promises in soft curves to the onlooker.
The depth of your life is stored in the reflection radiating out of your eyes. You have the kind of deep eyes that the onlooker can see through. Into knowledge resulting from well weathered storms. Into an abiding pure white that comes from poured out trust over bumpy travels. Into fertile ground where both new seeds grow and taller trees reach for the heavens.
Your life is volumes. The chapters flow down in layered ruffles. Starting at your neck line. Moving down around your shoulders, to your waist line, to the floor. Dancing around in layers where the color comes from the tint of your journey. Some layers are dyed in pink. This tells of crowns and dreams of crowns like marriage and motherhood. Like beaded necklaces put together by little children and then put on. These are childhood dreams that you believed would one day be your milestones.
Some of your ruffles are stained in red or magenta. This tells of your passions. The culmination of your time spent pursuing. Hunting down the substance of your life. This is your blood and your sweat. You will produce many colors, but the dye of your passionate efforts become you.
Some of your layers are patterned. You don’t make patterns alone. You labored with someone. You set out with someone. You made something together. This part of you is speaking joy. A configuration on your body that you can’t repeat or make by yourself. Speaking joy.
Some white and pressed. White and pressed never start that way. These are your muddled messes that turned out brighter and better than you could have ever imagined. This is the kind of white and pressed that doesn’t become wrinkled or stained. You bled through red and magenta to get white. Bright white remains.
Some layers are worn out because it was your favorite. These few are faded, but it’s not out of lack of love. It is out of so much love that it becomes worn. It somehow becomes the color of you. It is neither what it was before nor fully what you were then. It has faded into now.
There are a few ruffles that you have cut off because they no longer wear well with the hue of your skin. These are crossroads. Old Ambitions. Wrong paths. You moved on, cut off, set apart. You walked on. You have some apparent clippings on your form, but it has added to you the sense that you know when your colors don’t become you.
These are your volumes, your chapters, your pages. Layers flowing down and around made of who you are and where you have walked. Your physical body, your eyes, your smile. Your flowing colors. Your external body represents your internal beauty. Your beauty is the culmination of your journey as of yet.
You have passed through so much that it is hard to recall. Sometimes it may feel like a whirlwind. Sometimes it is hard to recall that you that have made it here. But you have. You have weathered storms. You have invited abiding pure white. What once was untamed, bare land is now your fertile ground. Crafted from passions and patterns. Pruning and clippings. This type of beauty does not come easy. Now that she is here. Explode into her. She has become you.