in your direction.
Already lighting
a path you cannot see,
but feel,
like warmth just beyond
the fingertips.
You do not ask the ocean
what it holds.
You go
because going
is the first truth.
Not courage—
but motion.
Not faith—
but the refusal to stop
listening
to the hum
that calls you forward.
There will be salt.
There will be shadow.
There will be the echo
of something ancient
inside your chest.
You are not the first
and never the last,
but you are the only one
here,
now,
at the edge
where light begins
to forget land.
And somewhere
in the far ahead,
in the deep beyond knowing,
a new silence waits—
not empty,
but whole.
