She carried stones before she knew what walls were for
Weight that felt like a burden to bear, without a reason to bear it.
Until the reason built itself around her — room by room, stone by stone
Fragments of moments paving the path from nowhere to somewhere
And every somewhere looked like almost — tasted like the edge of home
Remembered; known, without knowing how. An echo, backwards through time
She followed it anyway — through twelve doors that opened onto the same room
Each one revealing a new hue of the same light until it was blinding
And she closed her eyes — not to shut it out, but to feel it on her skin instead
The warmth that burned like a flame that wouldn't extinguish
She named it impossible. She named it violet. She named it hers.
And it was. It always was; she was just waiting for the right moment
The moment she stopped reaching — and realized she'd already arrived