Before the Question

It begins before sound.
Before thought.
Before the question even forms.

A pulse in the dark,
a tune beneath noise,
a thread of something ancient
tugging at the edges of you.

You know it.
You’ve felt it.
Like a door left cracked,
like a lyrics you almost remember,
like a fire in your chest,
waiting its turn.

But truth doesn’t arrive in straight lines.
It flickers.
It folds.
It finds you when you stop reaching,
when you step past the mind
and let the silence speak.

Truth is
you were never lost.
You never left.

And when you remember that
the sun bows,
the stars wink,
the thunder claps,
and the waters sink in.

Maybe that’s why you’re here.
Not to grasp the answer,
not to hold the light,
but to become it.

To step into the fire
and let it teach you your name.

So here’s the spark.
Here’s the bridge.
Here’s the space between what was
and what’s about to begin.

Breathe in.
Feel it.

And when you're ready

Step through.