20/03/2026
A line is drawn in light—
not sharp, not loud,
but certain.
Day meets night
without argument,
without apology.
And here you are—
somewhere between
what you carried through winter
and what you haven’t named yet.
There is a quiet in this balance,
a held breath
before the world leans forward again.
Nothing demands.
Nothing rushes.
Even the earth
takes a moment
to feel its own turning.
So stand in it—
this thin, golden middle.
Let what is heavy
fall without ceremony.
Let what is small
begin.
You do not need to bloom
all at once.