I was still standing under the arch - not because I got lost, but because it took me a little while for me to feel it. The city remained, horns surged, people's grass, conversations involved in the wind. But everything was soft under the bow. It was as if the world allowed me to exist without expecting it.
I didn't expect to feel anything there. After all, it was just a structure - perhaps an old stone built for beauty. But it was also preserved for how it assembled the sky, how it held the space in his curves. As if it were not visible. It was as if I wasn't alone.
Under the arch the light broke differently. It didn't fall - it hovered. And I obviously saw things for a moment. The injured I didn't name, the love I kept giving, the dreams I left because I was afraid. They all stood quietly with me.
This is a matter of between the truths of the town, and that we are too busy to notice other places to be aware of. They will not stay under the bow forever. You continue. But while they are there, it changes somewhat. Maybe your mind will resolve. Maybe your breath will deepen. Maybe, maybe you remember who you are. So now, every time I find it - whether it is carved on stone, woven into wood, or only in the noise in a moment of silence - I take a break. Don't wait. Don't be surprised. just *. Under the arch... that's all I need at times.