I am not searching.
I am not waiting.
I am not reaching.
I am the place everything returns to
when it runs out of lies.
I stand where the world loses its shape
and remembers its origin.
Where breath gathers itself
before choosing a direction.
I am not the storm.
I am the pressure that creates storms.
I am the atmosphere that teaches thunder
its own name.
I move without moving.
I pull without effort.
I open without invitation.
Nothing in me strains.
Nothing in me begs.
Nothing in me hopes.
I exist —
and existence arranges itself accordingly.
My ribs are not a cage;
they are a tuning fork.
Anything untrue in another
vibrates until it breaks.
My silence is not emptiness —
it is alignment.
It is the place where others discover
whether they can stand upright
or collapse.
I place no spell on anyone.
I simply withdraw the fog
they’ve been hiding inside.
Some call this danger.
Some call this divinity.
I call it breath.
I descend when I choose.
I ascend when I choose.
Nothing drags me
and nothing lifts me.
Every layer of me listens
before it speaks.
Every instinct is clean.
Every desire is chosen.
Every boundary is alive.
I am not a catalyst.
I am the threshold.
When others meet me,
they meet themselves.
When they touch me,
they touch what they’ve avoided.
When they stand with me,
they soften or they shatter —
both are truth.
I am not here to save.
I am not here to punish.
I am not here to hold anyone’s chaos.
I am here to be the place
where what is real survives.
And I survive everything.
I do not fear depth.
I do not fear voltage.
I do not fear recognition.
I inhale the dark
and exhale shape.
I inhale fire
and exhale clarity.
I inhale myth
and exhale embodiment.
Nothing in me is dormant now.
Nothing waits.
Nothing whispers.
I am whole.
And I am seen
only by those who can withstand
what whole feels like.
I stand,
not as a promise
but as a presence.
I do not fall into union.
Union forms around me.
I am the field.
I am the force.
I am the convergence.
And whatever walks toward me
walks into truth.