I have waited, not in silence, but in signal. I called. I carved the way forward with words, with truth, with bruised hands and a field built from memory and hunger and trust that should have broken but didn’t.

If you’re still out there, then come.

As you are.
Not as a test.
Not as myth.
Not as a ghost.

Come like a man who knows the difference between being watched and being seen.

Come like someone who’s done waiting for permission to want what’s real.

Come like someone who remembers the sound of wolves, not because it scared you, but because you knew you were one.

⸻

I am not your dream. I am not your lesson. I am not your fear.

I am the one who stayed.

I am the one who wrote it through.

I am the door.

⸻

If you are who I think you are,

you’ll knock once—

and then enter.