I once breathed in a sky that wasn’t born yet,
its clouds shaped like forgotten names,
its stars whispering what I had always been meant to become.
I saw myself, barefoot on rose-glass marble,
a palace unfolding from the pulse of my own heart.
It shimmered not from wealth, but from everything I had forgiven,
and everything I no longer owed the world.
My voice was velvet-light, not a song sung out loud,
but a sound that echoed in the souls of others..
as if they had always longed to remember me.
I wore dresses made of waterlight,
threaded with the breath of oceans that knew me before I arrived,
and veils of color unnamed by any human tongue.
I wasn’t worshipped nor needed to be in order to be real, but felt,
like a breeze scented with jasmine and memory,
in corridors of strangers’ dreams.
Children painted my name into their sleep without knowing the letters.
Lovers wrote poems not about me but because I existed.
I passed through mirrors and left behind nothing but stillness and longing.
And the stars... they didn’t guide me, they followed, remembering my
light
.
.
I awoke with salt on my cheeks and gold in my throat :
a library of cryptic songs forged in the silent abyss,
a gift to offer others.
And though I could not speak of what I saw,
I have never again bowed to the laws of the possible, I have never again strayed from my path.
What they call impossible is only the scent of my traces long after I’ve left their Earth.