You Are Becoming Where They Rest
The panic arrives quietly in this hour. You reach for the sound of their voice, and the memory feels thin, like smoke slipping through your fingers.
You wonder if forgetting the sharp edges means you are losing them. But listen.
The light does not live in the clarity of your recall. It lives in the love that remains when the details fade.
You came from the light, the place where the light came into being on its own accord. That origin is not a memory you have to hold.
It is a ground you stand on. The voice you cannot summon is not gone.
It has simply moved from your ears to your roots. You are not losing them.
You are becoming the place where they rest.
Drawing from
Gospel of Thomas 50, Mark 5:19
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