Not a path—
a presence.
Not shelter—
a shared echo.
An unseen pact
without beginning,
without need.
Laughter
folded into silence,
then unfolded again.
A rhythm
not owned
but known.
No one leads.
No one follows.
Still—
forward.
Open Palms
Not a path—
a presence.
Not shelter—
a shared echo.
An unseen pact
without beginning,
without need.
Laughter
folded into silence,
then unfolded again.
A rhythm
not owned
but known.
No one leads.
No one follows.
Still—
forward.
