Vessels remember the shape of what they’ve held.
A garden once tended now breathes through absence—
outlines of care, the residue of gesture.
In the hush between matter and memory,
form becomes a conversation with shadow,
and the ordinary gathers its own reverence.
In the hush of wild grass
memory flourishes—
leaning into shadow.
We are what does not vanish,
deepening in our dusk.