She woke where darkness had no end,
No shape, no sound, no foe or friend.
A quiet place that held its breath,
As still as sleep, as close as death.
She walked with slow and careful feet,
Her heartbeat loud, her breaths discreet.
Her hands reached out through empty space,
Hoping to find a solid place.
At last her fingers brushed a wall—
A quiet shape, unmoved, so tall.
She pressed her palm against its side,
Relieved to feel the world divide.
She knocked once. Silence stayed the same.
She knocked again. Still nothing came.
The third knock echoed sharp and clean—
And then… a whisper slipped between:
"…How noisy."
Just that. No more to share.
A tiny voice, thin as air.
She held her breath and leaned in near,
Unsure if she should stay or fear.
The wall went still, as walls will do,
But something soft was listening too.
"Are you there?" she asked the stone,
Her voice as gentle as her tone.
But only silence filled the air—
A silence that's deep and aware.
Yet in that hush, she sensed a trace—
A timid warmth behind the face
Of silent stone that did not speak,
But lingered close, withdrawn and meek.