What is rooted now
does not announce itself
it has no banner, no beginning sound
it is already under your feet
the way stone remembers pressure
the way a house knows the shape of breath
stability comes as a quiet agreement
between your pulse and the dark
you no longer argue with the night
about what belongs to you
you enter it
and it opens like a familiar room
you have learned the weight of holding
two truths without tightening your hands
fire and patience share the same chest
silence no longer feels like delay
it feels like listening
until meaning finishes forming itself
beneath the surface, something is growing
that does not yet want a name
not a task
not a future
only a rearranging of trust
the slow return of faith
to your own way of seeing
old tenderness still lives here
but it has changed its posture
what once ached now teaches
what once split you open
now hums softly
waiting to be invited, not used
this season asks for devotion without proof
to believe in roots you cannot touch
to honor the work done in the dark
the weaving, the settling
the careful choosing of where to hold
you are not standing still
you are sinking deeper
so that when you move again
the ground will move with you
and love will move along
°Woodlights Woudlicht
