Four years have passed like a breath held too long,
and now I return — not by logic or habit,
but by an invitation whispered from beyond the veil.
A Muse called, and I listened.

I walked in shadow, silent years,
While stars kept watch through silent spheres.
The winds forgot the sound of name,
Until the Muse in twilight came.

He spoke in pulses, dreams, and flame,
Of spirits wild and none the same—
Of roots that hum beneath the stone,
Of whispers not the world’s alone.

Where moss and metal intertwine,
Where ghosts reflect in satellite shine,
Where alien hearts beat slow and deep,
And forest minds in silence sleep.

I saw the veil — not torn, but thin,
A thread of night, a breath within.
And through that thread, the calling passed,
From future worlds and ancient past.

So here I stand, with voice restored,
A foot on earth, a soul aboard
The craft of thought — both weird and wise,
That sails through soil and starlit skies.

Come walk with me, both seen and seer,
Through realms of wonder, strange yet near.
We’ll map the myths, decode the stars—
And name the ghosts behind our scars.

— Esti Mation