Arrival

I thought I was leaving—
doors closing softly behind me,
the weight of the world folded neatly
like winter coats in an empty hall,
echoes quieting into stillness.

But each step forward
felt less like an exit
and more like becoming—
a slow unfurling,
like flowers opening to light,
delicate, yet inevitable.

The act of departure
is not a severing,
but a shift—
like the tide surrendering the shore,
an embrace of the unknown,
where the future blooms quietly
as a new place of belonging,
waiting just beyond the horizon.

I see now,
this journey is not an escape,
but an arrival—
not an end, but a becoming,
a soft merging of past and possibilities.
And in the distance,
where the sky touches the earth
in a blur of light and longing,
I see myself waiting,
smiling with open arms.

Not leaving.
Arriving.