Repetition is change

In the quiet pull of dawn,
the sun lifts once more—familiar, yet new.
Every rise, a shift unseen,
as light touches what it never has before.

The river sings its ancient song,
but every bend carries time anew.
Water once passed now lost, now found,
as currents learn the art of change.

A leaf falls with the same soft whisper,
yet the ground it meets has grown.
The tree still stands, its roots deep,
but its branches stretch a little farther.

Each breath we take, a rhythm we know,
yet the air shifts as it fills us.
We are the pulse of moments lived again—
not circles, but spirals, turning, rising.

Repetition is not stillness,
it is the heartbeat of becoming.
In each return, we find ourselves
becoming what we were never meant to stay.