I feel the weight of something, but I cannot name it yet.
A stirring in the marrow, a thirst I can’t forget.
It calls me not in orders, nor wrapped in sacred rhyme,
But in moments of quiet beauty, beyond the march of time.
I do not bend to dogma, nor crown the righteous king,
Yet still, a seed within me stirs, a quiet, nameless spring.

A light that flickers softly, where shadows once held sway,
A warmth that rises in my chest, though I push it all away.
I see the world in fragments, yet something seems to fit,
A pattern, faint but fleeting, as though a door is lit.
Not by rules or ritual, not by prayer or praise,
But by love and light and wonder, beyond the shifting haze.

I walk beneath the branches, where sunlight softly falls,
The rustle of the leaves like whispers in forgotten halls
Of dreams I’ve yet to fathom, of truths I dare not see,
Yet here in nature’s chorus, a song calls back to me.
The breeze, a gentle hand that pulls my mind from pride,
And the doors I've locked before, are now flung open wide.

I see the colors in the sky, where clouds and light entwine,
In every tree and stone I see what once seemed undefined.
In dreams, I saw a calling, in nature it appears,
A love that spans the heavens, a peace that calms my fears.
I will not kneel before the altar, nor follow empty creed,
But in this world of beauty, I find the faith I need.

I will not bend, I will not break, but maybe I will listen.
Not to order, not to law, but to beauty, as it glistens.