I do not rise each day to fight,
but to remember I was never lost.
Not broken,
Not forgotten,
Just hidden behind the noise.
There is no bell to ring,
no altar to kneel at—
only the hush between heartbeats
that whispers:
"You are already home."
I walk not to arrive,
but to feel the earth beneath me say,
"Even now, I hold you."
I speak no mantra,
only a sentence that lives for a moment,
then vanishes like breath in winter.
I ask no gods to save me—
not because I don't believe,
but because I've met the one
who never leaves.
I offer nothing I do not own,
And what I own,
is simply this:
A flame that doesn't beg for wind.
A truth that doesn't blink,
A self that needs no audience.
So if the world forgets me,
let it.
If silence swallows my name,
bless it.
For in that hush,
I return-
again,
and again,
and again.