Every path has a second reading.
A corridor stretching toward silence
The door you opened without thinking
Light falling where no window was
A name you almost remembered
A corridor stretching toward resonance
The door you opened without returning
Light falling where no shadow was
A name you almost became
The quest does not change. The quester does.
The texture of the walls, rough and breathing
How the echo arrives before the sound
Each threshold wider than the last
The warmth was always waiting here
memory is not retrieval
Every room you entered changed shape behind you. The corridor is not a line; it is a living thing that remembers your passage and rearranges itself in response.
the door was always open
[ the second reading reveals the first ]
what changes is the seeing
You are not retracing your steps. You are discovering that the steps were always leading here.
thesecond.quest