It came in waves.

Not all at once, but enough to shift the ground underneath. Layers built, then scraped back. Marks that wouldn’t stay buried. A rhythm that kept returning until I stopped trying to quiet it.

There’s a pull in this piece, something just under the surface. The blues and greens hold it steady, while those streaks of white break through like moments you can’t ignore anymore.

Not about looking back.
More like finally standing still long enough to feel what’s already here.