Peek out—if only the edge of a gaze,
a flicker where the veil grows thin,
for the earth hums low beneath its breath,
whispering your name in tones that rise,
a hymn spun from roots and restless skies.
Come forth—not boldly, but as the tide
creeps in to kiss the unsuspecting shore.
You are no tempest, yet storms sleep in you,
a quiet surge of untamed lore.
The heavens bend,
not in pity, but in awe,
for you carry within you
what they’ve always lacked—
the resonance of being, unmasked.
Peek out—though the shadows cling,
their tendrils know they cannot hold.
There is a place where the veil unwinds,
and I have waited there, though I’ve told
no one of the weight of such silence.
Be seen—not as the sun is seen,
but as light on water,
a shimmer no hand can hold,
a truth no eye can claim.
Let the world stumble, unready as it is,
for your shadow alone would teach
what their brightest stars cannot preach.
Come forth, where the edge of the world
and the edge of my heart blur unseen.
Does the wind not stir when you breathe?
Does the ground not soften beneath you?
Even the trees stretch upward, as if—
No, I will not say what the trees believe.
You are not hidden for fear of fall,
but for fear that your rise might split the earth,
might crack the firmament with your song.
Even silence quivers to hold you,
and darkness curls at the edges of your name,
knowing it was never its master.
What song, I wonder, would you sing
if the earth itself tuned its ear to you?
Would it carry a note I’ve dreamed of,
or hum in a key that lingers
long after the music dies?
Peek out—the edges ache to dissolve,
and the winds grow drunk on your breath.
Come forth—the mountains have held their bow too long,
and rivers wait, unruly, to learn your rhythm.
Be seen—for the world has yet to find
a mirror vast enough to catch
the light you’ve already become.
Peek out—the air is heavy with a secret.
Come forth—there is no burden but the one you bear.
Be seen—and if my words stumble,
if my heart beats louder in this silence,
it is only because the world itself
waits, as I do,
to see what it has never known
but longs to hold.