I have not departed, just dispersed— a breath carried by the wind, a glint on the surface of the water. I observe you moving through the serene spaces where my voice once resonated, where the sound of my steps used to soften the ground. I no longer require words. The heaviness of conversation, the weight of noise— those are for those who still breathe. Yet, if you pay attention, if you pause in the stillness of dusk, you might sense me in the shifting atmosphere, in the intervals between heartbeats. I am not imploring you to mourn indefinitely. I simply wish for you to be aware— to permit the world to press upon you as it does upon me, infinite, invisible, yet perpetually present. ©️ James Michael 2025