There was once a hush before memory, before shape.
and she was already there, feeling what hadn’t yet begun.
She lived through things that had not happened,
her heart flooded by echoes of futures not written,
of loves never named, of endings still unborn.
She wept the ache of a world still asleep,
where no soul had dreamed her
yet but she was already aching with the weight of unborn tenderness.
Her tears carved valleys in time before the clocks remembered to exist.
She was the storm that had not raged,
the flower that was never gifted,
the voice that sang before breath learned how to shape itself into sound.
No one saw her... not because she was hidden,
but because they had not yet been taught to see
something that came from before vision.
She wandered the silent maze of a dream that could not name her,
feeling everything that should have never been felt by someone not yet created.
And still, she bloomed with the pain of things not yet broken,
loved with the ache of hands she would never hold,
and forgave the absence that wrapped her
like a cradle of light left outside the very notion of Being.
She was the girl who felt it all before before…
and still she dreams as if the world was worthy of remembering her.