The room remained Long after The reasons had gone Its geometry Unchanged By the passing Of years I occupied No throne Only The place Where silence Had learned My weight Outside Entire seasons Collapsed Against the glass Without permission Without witness Inside Nothing hurried I waited Not for an answer Not for a sign Not for the dark To become light The light Never departed Only The architecture Of my hearing Realigned Twenty-five winters Crossed the stone Until memory Released Its own story What remained Required No explanation I no longer Stood At the threshold The threshold Had entered me The room Was no longer A place It had become A way Of remaining Time Continued Without asking Presence Held The frame Not by force Not by promise Simply By staying The final trace Was never The silence It was The quiet gravity That had carried me Long before I learned Its name
