I had folded that map.

Tucked it away on a shelf
    where dust could claim it,

    where time could fade the ink of promises and places unseen.

The door to my heart creaked like
    an old hinge
    in a house long forgotten,

    echoing only with silence and the wind’s sighs.

Then you arrived—
    a stranger,
    a spark.

    Not loud or demanding, but with a quiet certainty, a question wrapped in warmth.

Your smile was a new language I hadn’t learned to speak.

Your eyes—
    two distant constellations
    charting paths I thought had vanished in the fog.

You didn’t ask me to believe or to surrender.

You simply stood there as I,
    and the rest of the world,
    had always known your name.

And slowly,
    I unfolded.

    Petals of an old flower reaching for the sun,
    fingers fumbling to find the softness of your hand.

With you, even silence sounded like a song—
    familiar yet new,
    a hymn...

    to all that had been lost and all that could be found.

You are the gift I didn't know to wish for,
    the reason I dare dream again.

And now: the map is back in my pocket.

And
    I’m
        Ready

To see the world—
    anew.

This time—
    with you.