December arrives like a quiet confession—
soft light on the windowsill,
the scent of endings warming in the air,
the subtle pulse of a year preparing
to place its final period.
And here you are—
honoring the new you
with a reverence you once reserved
only for survival.
Yes, survival had its season,
But blooming?
Blooming is your birthright now.
You’ve spent months—years, even—
doing the work no one applauded:
the midnight dialogues with your shadow,
the unlearning of inherited aches,
the reshaping of your boundaries
with the precision of a sculptor
and the exhaustion of one too.
But look at you—
standing here, unbothered, unshaken,
glowing like you swallowed the sun
and dared it to dim.
December tells the truth we avoid:
Reflection is a sacred rite.
A recalibration.
A calling in of every version of yourself
that carried you to this threshold.
Behind closed doors, you shed skins
like a season committed to revolution.
You plucked old narratives from your ribs,
released entire lifetimes from your spine,
and dared to choose yourself
without apology or pause.
Call it healing.
Call it rebirth.
Call it the kind of transformation
your ancestors prayed would reach you.
Now—
You bloom.
Fully.
Freely.
Without disturbance,
without interruption,
without explaining your petals to anyone
who never learned to water themselves.
And as someone said—
whispered through spirit and prophecy—
2025 is the year of completion.
A year where old cycles pack their bags
and leave without slamming doors.
A year that ties loose ends
with the grace of a weaver
and the certainty of destiny.
But 2026…
Ah, that is a beginning
so fresh the universe itself
is still stitching the blueprint.
New soil.
New breath.
New pathways constructed
from the ashes of everything
You refused to carry forward.
So celebrate yourself now—
in this in-between,
this holy hinge between what was
And what is rising?
Toast to your courage,
your conviction,
Your stubborn devotion to becoming.
Stand tall in your poise,
laugh louder than your doubts,
Thank the old you with tenderness,
and greet the new you
with the kind of joy
That makes the universe blush.
Because next year,
and the year after that—
You are not just stepping into your era.
You are writing it.
Living it.
Owning it.
And the world, darling,
better make room–
Copyright © 2025 Sherley Delia | All rights reserved.
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