TheParagon

I wrote not to be remembered,
But to remember myself...
A grain of sand whispering
To the tide that shaped me.

I asked not for answers,
But for echoes...
The kind that return
When the soul is quiet enough
To hear its own becoming.

I was here,
Not as monument,
But as altar...
Where memory met mystery
And dared to call it God.

I have nothing else to offer
But this:
A handful of words,
A breath of devotion,
A question still unfolding.

I do not count stars...
I feel their silence.
I do not measure truth...
I walk its edge.
My mind is not a ledger...
It is a lantern,
Flickering toward
What cannot be summed.