Soft as moss growing between stones,

Quiet as the first light touching dew,

Something remembers you

Before you remember yourself.

Centuries breathe through your bones,

Ancient rhythms pulse beneath your skin—

A lineage older than thought,

Deeper than memory.

Water flows through you—

Taste its memory on your tongue,

Feel its currents in your palms,

The same water that carved canyons,

That moves through cloud and root,

That lives in your blood and the ocean's heart.

Listen:

The wind carries stories

Older than words,

Gentler than judgment,

Wider than your smallest doubt.

You are Mother Earth's

Highest Offering—

The bridge where consciousness 

Remembers its way.