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Light forgot its angles
I remember the corridor, exhaling
Static threading through me like a distant call more felt than heard
A figure assembles from maybe
Pressing itself into my mind from fog,
Daring to be seen
Hands of light, not touching
A memory pretending to be new
Gravity paused, mind open
Is this arrival
Or is it recognition
I have been leaking signal in my sleep,
Transmitting through years
Someone finally leaned in.