There is a seam in reality
where time forgets its edges
and light hesitates
before becoming form
dust drifts through the brightness
like memory deciding whether to remain
it levitates in slow obedience
to an unseen softness
as if reminiscence itself has turned translucent
something ancient has loosened its grip
with the quiet surrender
of a spell that has completed its telling
yet forgotten to carry the silence away
you notice it first in the small things
the way your breath
no longer argues with itself
the way you are no longer held
in the geometry of breaking
instead there is a drifting between thresholds
a luminous unknowing
where endings dissolve
before they can declare themselves complete
even sorrow begins to forget its posture
nothing is restored in the way closure promises restoration
it is stranger than that
it is the pause after transformation
when the shape has changed
but has not yet learned how to be seen
beyond the edge of perception
old patterns unravel themselves
like tides that no longer remember
why they were called to return
and in this in-between
woven from starlit stillness
something within you is being rewritten
without ink without witness
without a name
only the faint shimmer of becoming
learning at last
how to exist
without resistance
°Woodlights Woudlicht
