Beloved world,
I speak to you now, not in haste, but in stillness.
In the quiet space between breaths, I remember.
I remember the thread that binds us,
the sacred interwovenness of all things
how your soul speaks through the rustling leaves,
through birdsong and ocean tide,
through the warmth of a hand held in kindness.

It seems we have drifted far,
lost in the noise of convenience,
the hum of machines and endless consumption.
But even here, beneath the static,
something ancient stirs.
A yearning. A homesickness.
A call back to presence.

I feel you, spirit of the earth.
I feel you when I stand in the quiet woods,
when I hear laughter shared around a fire,
when I look into another’s eyes and see myself.
In those moments,
my true nature remembers its name.

You have always waited.
Patient, gentle, generous with your beauty.
Even as we turned away.
Even as the ties of our making grew tight.

But I am listening now.
I am softening.
I am seeking you,
not in effort, but in devotion
to be with you
as I am,
as we once were:
whole, true, in love.

Let this be the beginning again.
Let us return, not backwards,
but deeper, into the heart of what matters.
To walk gently. To live in rhythm.
To speak with care.
To remember joy.

I wait for you in stillness,
and yet I know
you were never gone.

You are here.
And I am, again, with you.