Change.

I scoured off my tired skin
to see if much was left within,
when out spread wings of silk-like down
that bandaged up, and wrapped around,
whose skeleton of hollow bones
nested just above my own
as faintest lines of things to come
lay bare beneath the Autumn sun.

That bitter ache of letting go!
Of what once was, to trust, and know
that what had been, could be no more
through the threshold of a once locked door.
To walk in faith, though still so blind,
in hope of renewing a worn out mind
and soar as three, once one, now free
towards uncharted destiny.

For I came here young, and leave not old,
but etched with wisdom worth more than gold,
new lessons painted on old limbs,
and a re-tuned heart that beats, and sings
for colour has poured back through my soul,
bright ink sank deep and made me whole
so now with skin forever stained,
my tired wings are new again.