Not A Title,
Not A Fixed Name
Spoken Once And Held Forever—
But A Pattern
That Keeps Returning
Like Breath Against A Window
⸻
I Have Not Chosen One Life
I Have Followed What Repeats
I Build,
Again And Again—
Small Worlds Of My Own Making,
Tea, Rooms, Language,
Places That Hold A Certain Feeling
I Move Toward What Has Texture—
Sound, Air, Light,
The Way A Place Speaks Without Asking
And When Something Tightens,
When It Asks Me To Become Smaller
Than I Know Myself To Be—
I Leave
Not As Failure,
But As Correction
Consent
Coherent grief
⸻
There Are Lives That Stand Still
And Call That Certainty
Mine Moves
It Gathers,
It Refines,
It Rearranges The Atmosphere
Until Something Quiet Inside Me Says:
Yes, This Is Closer
⸻
I Do Not Arrive
I Tune
I Do Not Declare
I Return
And What Keeps Returning—
That Is The Path
In My Company
Μου Αρέσουν Τα
Πουλιά, Οι Γάτες Και Τα Σκυλιά
⸻
Not Straight
Not Secure
But Unmistakable
In Its Repetition
Something New Like
Its Own Resurrection
© GÄ
Poétique 