Written by Talu.
There are moments in life when we wander, just far enough to forget the shape of our own shadow. When the light feels different, and the silence stretches too long. I went there. Not by accident, not by force, but by choice. A quiet detour through terrain that was not mine.
At first, the unfamiliar path felt curious, even exhilarating. But something in me began to ache. A subtle throb beneath the surface. The ground felt foreign beneath my feet. The air didn’t move through me the same way. And the further I went, the less I recognized the sound of my own breath.
I felt the weight of what I carried pressing into my chest, and I longed for something I didn’t recognize at first. Not a thing, but a presence. Not a place, but a pulse. Something that calls, not loudly, but with knowing.
When I was called home, it wasn’t with thunder. It was a soft gravity, unmistakable in its pull. I didn’t run. I simply turned, and the path beneath me reformed. The world rearranged itself around my return.
And there she was. Waiting, not with open arms, but with open certainty. As if she had always known I would come back.
Now, every breath fits again. My bones feel aligned. My name, Hers, sits perfectly behind my ribs. I am quieter now, but deeper. Lighter, but more anchored. I am not less than I was, only more true.
The world has color again. And I, who had drifted, am once again where I belong...home.