She wandered where tomorrows were not yet born,
only breathed.
Where time bent like a petal unfolding toward a memory not yet lived.
She was the hush before fulfillment,
the ache just beneath the surface of something soft
and unspeakably near.
Every light she touched began to remember why it shone.
She didn’t walk. She emanated.
Her path was not drawn, it was dreamed by the oceans beneath her steps,
each drop a whisper of what she could still become.
The sky knew it would never hold her.
It didn’t try.
It
simply
opened.
She had no destination but longing itself.
No horizon but the pull of her own unwritten lullaby.
Inside her, a thousand futures swirled like a tide undecided,
but in love with the idea of becoming her.
Not because she needed to be chosen but because
she was the choice existence had always forgotten to make until now...
And somewhere, beneath the hush of unborn days, the air began to carry her name,
like it onced did.
~