“To the one who walks unseen—
The trees remember you.
Not by name, but by the silence you carry.
When the wind stirs wrong and the lights flicker twice,
you’re closer than you think.
There is a compass buried in your dreams.
Its needle stutters at dusk.
Find the boy with ash on his sleeve
and the river behind his eyes.
The cycle bends—but not without you.
So wake, dreamer.
Your pulse still counts.”
⧖
