Almost Light

I lift my foot, testing—

and find only air.

My hand sketches horizons

only the soul can see.

Beneath me, the ground gathers:

quiet bricks of becoming,

laid without my naming,

already rising to bear me.

I stand at the edge of promise,

a vow stretched just beyond reach,

vision clear—

reflected in the crystal flame

of a heart that has tasted love.

I sigh—

a tender sound made sacred.

I soften—

beholding the beauty

that has not yet taken form.

Almost light.

Almost flight.

Almost home.