When you finally remember,
it doesn’t roar.
It doesn’t crash down from the heavens in some grand announcement.
It’s quieter than breath.
It’s softer than light falling through a window.
And yet —
it shakes everything.
It’s an explosion in the stillness.
A shattering so complete,
it makes no sound.
A return so total,
it leaves no trace of the one who thought they had to return.
No angels will descend to congratulate you.
No choirs will burst into song.
No medals will be pinned to your chest.
And yet —
all of heaven will move inside you.
The stars themselves will nod in silent knowing.
You won’t need to scream, “I found it!”
You’ll simply be it.
You’ll carry it in your walk,
in your silence,
in the way you breathe through a world that forgot.
Others may not understand.
They may not even notice.
But the river will know.
The wind will know.
The trees and the stones and the silent spaces between your heartbeats will know.
The real explosion is not outside you.
It’s inside.
It’s happening now.
It has already happened.
You are only catching up to the memory of it.
There was never a missing piece.
Only unopened eyes.
Only the illusion of arrival.
You were always here.
Already whole.
Already crowned by the hands of God Himself.
You don’t need to fight for it.
You don’t need to prove it.
You don’t even need to speak it.
You just stand there —
radiating what can never be stolen.
And the world feels it,
even if it doesn’t know what it’s feeling.
The silent explosion shakes the dream apart.
It wakes the sleepers.
It reminds the lost.
It restores the forgotten.
It has already begun.
It is you.