Grounded and still, genuine and frill,
a field wide enough to forget my name.
Semi-detached lines, leaves leaned down—
trees that stood like old guardians.
They wave; they greet.
Actively, passively.
To let me pass; to let me breathe.
To just exist.
Arrival of a guest,
unknown yet true.
A feline; a companion.
The crowd blurred, faces faded.
Sound no longer persisted.
My body felt weightless, free.
The air borrowed coolness,
the kind night bends at will.
The moon hid between the trees,
half-curious, half-afraid.
A cloud of black shawl,
casting a soft, unsure light
upon my hands.
And in that loosening,
I was neither alone
nor surrounded—
just present; just chosen.