Eclipse Season

They say eclipses
arrive to rewrite stories.

Not with violence,

but with a hand
that gently turns the page
before we’ve finished
reading the last chapter.

My Moon lives in Leo.

She is not small.

She was never meant to whisper.

She was born wearing sunlight,
learning that courage
is simply the decision
to keep your heart open
when the world teaches you
to close it.

This eclipse
doesn’t ask me to become someone else.

It asks me to remember.

To remember the girl
who dreamed without permission.

The woman
who kept building anyway.

The quiet leader
who never wanted applause,

only to know
that what she created
made someone else’s life
a little lighter.

My Moon sits high,

where purpose meets the sky,

where the work of a lifetime
becomes more than a career.

It becomes a legacy.

So if the shadows come,

let them.

The Sun has never feared
a passing darkness.

Neither will I.

When the light returns,

it will find me

standing a little taller,

loving a little louder,

leading with a softer heart,

and finally understanding

that being seen

was never the lesson.

Becoming myself

was.

And perhaps

that is what every eclipse

has been trying to tell me

all along.