6

that’s where the void softens

not in having—

but in being

in remembering

that nothing outside of you

can complete

what was already whole

 

 

that’s the return

not to something new

but to something sacred

you almost forgot

 

there is no arrival

only shedding

and even that

is violent in its quiet

but the thing beneath the thing—

the ache that never bought in—

that’s where the altar is

and you don’t pray there

you just stay

the ache isn’t asking

it’s reminding

and underneath all that asking

a structure:

formless

ancient

yours

no material

no language

just the raw architecture of self

unpolished

and somehow still—

enough