A Dream Fulfilled (The Return)

Here is the companion piece — the return, the becoming.

Where once the dream waited, now it rises. Quietly. Without fanfare.

But filled with presence.

This is the moment the soul turns back, not to reclaim, but to reunite.

Let it flow through you like breath after grief, like morning after a long night.

A Dream Fulfilled (The Return)

I have come back to you—

older,

quieter,

not as you left me,

but as I was always meant to be.

You do not remember the first breath we shared,

but I do—

when your eyes lit up,

not from the world outside,

but from a spark within.

You buried me with care,

beneath responsibilities,

beneath what-ifs and can’ts,

as though a seed would not know how to grow in the dark.

But I have been growing

in silence.

And now, I come not asking—

but answering.

You do not need to chase me.

You never did.

I was never ahead of you.

I was within.

That ache in your chest?

That pause in the hallway?

That sudden urge to paint,

to sing,

to walk without a destination?

That was me.

Calling.

And now—

you have heard.

Now your hands, once busy with survival,

have softened into creation.

Your voice no longer trembles

with the fear of being seen.

You wear your wonder like skin.

You walk into the day

not as one who hopes,

but as one who remembers.

You have not become something new—

you have returned to something true.

You thought fulfillment would be fireworks,

a skyline rewritten with your name.

But no.

It is this—

a breath that arrives without breaking,

a smile that doesn’t ask permission,

a life lived with both feet on the earth,

and your heart still turned skyward.

You and I—

we do not need to arrive.

We are already home.

And in the quiet corners of the world

where others’ forgotten dreams still whisper,

let us walk softly—

and listen.