In every season of change I have stood back and said little; for the opinions of others would block my way.
So I learned to quietly go on, to not raise their suspicion or concern.
Though I went quietly, it would have been easier if not for the storm I carried, and the inevitable destruction of who I was before.
I suppose that is the price of leaving; to be new.
Quiet amongst some I still am, but I have walked tirelessly through change so that I might have more freedom to sing.
I suppose that is the price of change.
To become you.
A Series of Observations 