042926 @ Arjan
I was between chapters —
Ink not yet dry,
Paper still remembering my weight…
When the horizon shifted
And called itself elsewhere.
A landing that felt like falling,
A door without a name,
Walls made of questions.
Even silence had an echo there…
Even certainty learned to hesitate.
There are ghosts of a life
That still know my shape —
Keys that fit,
Roads that remember my footsteps,
Laughter that doesn’t need translation.
But here —
It is just me
And the sound of my own voice.
I unravel,
Then gather myself in unfamiliar ways.
A quiet war,
Where victory looks small
But feels infinite.
Yes, the body grows heavy —
Time clings to my shoulders…
Yet something lighter lives within:
A pulse of calm,
A joy that does not ask permission.
I speak too much to the air,
But something unseen listens —
Steadied the trembling,
Softens the edges of fear.
And so the question dissolves—
Not answered, just outgrown.