01
Days passed without measure.
I stopped counting them.
The noise in my head
did not leave at once.
It fought.
It circled back.
It tried to make itself important.
But the woods are patient.
They do not argue.
They outlast.
02
Another sunrise.
Another chance
to get it right.
And I will.
Because the fire’s back -
quiet,
controlled,
mine.
03
My eyes, open to light,
to the glisten of dew on blades of grass,
to the dance of shadows across the ground,
as if the earth itself breathes,
stretching, stirring,
and I am part of its waking,
alive in every quiet miracle,
every whisper of the world.