I found it once, that sacred space,
Not marked by maps, nor bound by place.
It wasn’t built of stone or wood,
But made of moments understood.
A glance that held the weight of years,
A laugh that softened silent fears.
The way the morning touched my skin,
As if the world let me begin.
I walked with purpose, sure and wide,
The wind itself walked by my side.
Each step a note in some grand song,
Each breath a sign I did belong.
The faces knew me, called my name,
Not out of duty, pride, or fame—
But with a warmth that made me whole,
As if they’d memorized my soul.
I built a life with trembling hands,
On shifting dreams and fragile plans.
But still it stood, and still it grew,
A garden fed by morning dew.
And in that place, I learned to be
Not what they asked, but simply me.
No mask, no script, no need to hide—
Just truth and time, and quiet pride.
But seasons change, and so do skies,
And even roots can’t hold goodbyes.
The laughter faded, slow and thin,
Like echoes lost in howling wind.
The faces turned, the doors were closed,
The paths I knew became imposed.
The place I’d found began to shift,
A dream unmoored, a silent drift.
I tried to stay, to mend the seams,
To stitch the edges of my dreams.
But some things slip beyond our hold,
Like fire that dies when nights grow cold.
Now I walk with quieter feet,
Through cities loud and strangers sweet.
I smile, I nod, I play the part—
But carry ghosts inside my heart.
Yet still, I search—not for the same,
Not for the place that knew my name.
But for a space where I can stand,
With open heart and empty hand.
For life is not a single shore,
But tides that pull us evermore.
And though I lost what felt like home,
I found the strength to still roam.
So if you see me, passing through,
Know I once loved, and once I knew
A place where I was whole and free—
And now I seek what’s yet to be.