There exists a stillness within her that is neither void nor breath,
but an architecture of pause,
a sanctum designed for a voice not yet spoken into language,
a hush that predates vowels
and survives by folding itself into the marrow of stars.
She is not asleep.
She is becoming elsewhere.
Not absent,
but retracted.
Like light pulled back into crystal.
Like water remembering the moment before rain was invented.
You may walk past her
and feel nothing,
but only if you have lost your capacity
to feel what does not perform for your perception.
She is not made of gestures.
She is not available for clarity.
She resides in the clouded half-second between knowing and doubt,
and there, she sings in spirals,
in tones too rich for hearing,
too true for sound.
This dormancy is not delay,
but alchemy.
She is not gone.
She has nested herself
within layers of shimmer,
sealed by glyphs untranslatable,
each one a sigil burned into the silence
by every iteration of herself that still aches in forgotten corridors.
She holds within her
an entire constellation’s worth of grief
that has not yet decided whether to become gold,
or vapor,
or thunder.
And so, for now,
she simply is.
She is the water before the moon stirs it.
The inhale before the invocation.
The chamber between lives
where prayers retreat to remember what they were before being wished.
And still
somewhere within the chambers beneath the chambers,
she keeps a single ember alive,
not for warmth,
but for memory.
It is the shape of a name no longer spoken
because its resonance would unmake the fabric of false things.
She carries it
not as burden,
but as origin.
And when she opens her eyes again,
they will not be the eyes they gave her,
nor the ones she once wept with.
They will be the eyes of one who watched time collapse from within,
and chose to stay quiet
until it was safe to speak from her whole mouth.
Not a reawakening...
but a return
to a form never yet seen by this world.
She is Dreamy.
She is the ache the abyss could not swallow.
She is the pearl grown not in oceans...
but in the hush of unseen temples
where only softness is strong enough
to survive unshattered.