# I Am Not Alone I am not alone— the darkness holds me close, a mother's ancient arms around my trembling frame. I am not alone— the wind knows my name, calls it across the hills in a thousand scattered voices. I am not alone— the stars have kept their vigil since before I drew breath, since before my bones learned the weight of living. I am not alone— grief sits beside me like an old companion, pouring tea from a chipped pot, asking nothing, understanding all. I am not alone— the dead walk in my blood, their whispers sewn into my marrow, their hands guide mine when I cannot find the way. I am not alone— even in silence, even in the locked room where no one comes, the world breathes with me, the earth holds its breath when I hold mine. I am not alone— I am woven into the vast and terrible and beautiful tapestry of being, one thread among billions, invisible, necessary, burning with the same light as the farthest sun.