There was a dream of seeds sprouting, of shoots pushing through soil in a small pot.

You don't remember, but I do.

You don't think I hear you, but I do.

Not everything that looks silent is empty, or not moving, or not being reimagined,

or not recognized for the fullness it already is.

Right before it happened, it looked like nothing was happening.

It looked like a fail.

But then glory fell, crowns fell, my mantle fell around that body's shoulders, my calling fell upon it.

You will do great things.

But where are you?

I love you.