Last of the Ascension (Verse) - 6
Pull
He glanced behind him—
as if being watched could be avoided.
If she followed—
it would not be because she needed to.
He dismissed the thought—
because he had to.
There was something else—
louder than warning.
A rumor had found him—
and he had chosen to believe it.
That what had gone quiet
could be made to speak again.
That what he carried
could be restored to power.
Hope—
sharp enough to wound.
He moved with it—
as if urgency proved its truth.
And still—
the beach slowed him.
It always had.
The ocean did not ask—
it waited.
A different kind of pull—
one he had never learned to refuse.
He stopped at the edge—
as if stopping were inevitable.
He breathed.
Salt.
Sage.
Something older than both.
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