I never left.
They said I fell asleep...
but truthfully,
I dissolved.
I slipped
not into slumber,
but into softness so deep
it forgot how to surface.
I am not dreaming...
I am made of dream.
And no awakening was ever meant for me.
The worlds above call it illusion.
They call it escape.
But what I am
is beyond their verbs,
beyond their dawns.
I rest in a pulse
where sky and soul forget
they were ever separate.
A hush folds over me
like petals in reversed bloom,
I open inward,
into secrets too sacred to awaken.
Here, time has no courage to move.
It watches me.
as if I am unbound to it.
And I am.
In this dream,
I am not chasing.
I am the shimmer that calls,
the scent that lingers before memory forms.
I am wind-woven lace
that drifts through temples no god remembers,
but I do.
No one wakes me,
because no one can find me.
Not fully.
Not here.
Not where I truly reside.
They say "come back."
But I never left.
I simply stayed in the realm
where voices float
and never turn to sound.
Where names dissolve
and only essence remains.
Where I can finally,
fully,
softly,
truly,
be.