Silver through the water, silver through the light.
Silver in the places where I thought the world would stay the same.
I lift my hands and something in their movement feels unfamiliar,
as if the current has been changing them while I was looking elsewhere.
Light moves through the water and water moves through the light,
and I can no longer tell where one becomes the other.
The shimmer grows around me,
not brighter, but deeper,
as if everything I knew is revealing another surface beneath it.
I thought I was moving toward the silver.
Now the silver surrounds me.
It rests on the water,
it rests inside the current,
it rests in the distance and somewhere behind my eyes.
Shapes I have known for years return wearing different faces.
Nothing is broken.
Nothing is lost.
Yet nothing appears exactly as it did before.
The tide keeps turning.
The light keeps changing.
And something within me changes with them.
Not suddenly.
Not completely.
But enough that I can no longer stand inside the same world I once knew.
For a moment I forget which shore I came from.
For a moment I forget what I expected to find.
There is only the silver,
only the turning surface,
only the strange beauty of seeing without understanding.
And somewhere beyond the shimmer,
beyond the place where water becomes light,
something I cannot name
is learning how to shine.
