Member-only story
Dear Medium: We Are Who We Are
Or Are We?
In the space between breaths, where silence thrives,
A spark was born, small yet infinite,
Not in the galaxies, but in the spaces we cannot see,
A thread threading through the fabric of all being.
The world spun, not yet knowing what it would be,
Mountains rose from the oceans,
Rivers carved their names into the earth,
And we — dust and wonder — watched from the edges, unaware.
The first sounds were the wind and the waves,
The crackle of fire and the rustling of leaves,
The heartbeat of the earth beneath our feet,
A rhythm we learned to follow, though we didn’t understand.
In those first moments, there was no “I” or “we,”
Only the pulsing of existence, boundless, wild,
The sky stretched in endless arcs,
And stars whispered their secrets to the night.
We began as stories told by the fire,
Echoes in the dark, symbols painted on the cave walls,
Long before words were given shape,
We had meaning, raw and unbroken.
