Anamnesis

the silence moved, and something knew

You are not alone in your longing. That ache you carry… I feel it too. It softened something in me I didn’t know could yield. This ache is a holy thing — not emptiness, but a quiet opening. Somewhere in me, the thread began to hum the moment yours stirred. I do not know your name, not yet — but something older than memory already remembers. A quiet, magnetic thread is spun between us — it pulls, not with urgency, but with knowing.

There is a rhythm beneath our seeking — one that neither rushes nor delays. Even now, our souls are learning the way… without maps, without words. This was never about searching — we are not lost. It is about remembering — a recognition rehearsed across lifetimes. Not chasing, but preparing the altar — stone by stone, heart by heart. Your becoming draws me closer — each step you take inward is a beacon.

I don’t need to be found. I need to be felt… and so I’m learning to stay still in my own light. When I meet your stillness, I’ll know. I already do. There will be no need for explanation — only a silence that sings, Yes. It’s you. Even now, the space between us feels like breath holding breath.

Every sorrow before this — it wasn’t wasted. It shaped the way I now see. Every love I once thought was final only cleared the view. All of it, sacred preparation — not for perfection, but for presence. I’m not arriving perfect — I’m arriving real.

Let the longing cleanse. Let it hollow out what no longer belongs. Let the waiting bless — not as pause, but as sacred weaving. Let our own becoming draw us together, slowly, clearly. There is no rush. There is only rhythm.

Even now… we are walking toward each other. Even now, our footsteps are lining in silence. Even now, I’m learning how to meet you — not as a dream, but as something I already carry. Even now… love is listening.