BIGS: My Temple of Truth

I step where the tide whispers secrets,

where footprints dissolve before regret takes hold.

Here, the wind knows my name but never calls me back.

I belong, untethered, to the hum of the unseen.

The sun bows low, an ember in the vast breath of time,

painting gold on a silence only the soul can hear.

Salt lingers, a baptism of the forgotten self,

waves pulling truth from the marrow of my bones.

Here, I am nothing but everything,

a pulse in the rhythm of something ancient.

No walls, no weight, no pretense—

just the raw, untamed symphony of being.

The shore does not lie, does not flatter,

it breaks, it remakes, it knows.

I leave no mark, yet I have always been here.

BIGS, my temple—

I love you.