philo: a waking spell

On becoming the question that wears your name.

---

philo

love that forgets its name

so

soft syllable of seeking

phy

a root reaching toward light

so

again—because repetition is devotion

crat

a fragment of power broken open

es

a plural sigh: many beginnings

is

being, in lowercase

me

not the self—but the question wearing my shape

w

a wave, the first mouth of wonder

i

the narrow bridge between knowing and not

t

the cross of thought

h

a breath drawn too early

cur

curled creature of turning

i

again, insistently human

os

a bone, an opening

it

the thing itself—unsolved

y

why: the hinge of the heart

or

a choice that glows

philo

love, looping back to itself

me

the one who asks, not answers

Author Note:

Written half-asleep between thought and word, this piece surfaced like an echo from the marrow of language. I found myself disassembling “philosophy” until it stopped being a noun and became a pulse—a reminder that love of wisdom begins not with knowing, but with wonder.