I didn’t recognize it at first.
Not as a sound, not as a calling, not even as my own.

It arrived like a quiet pressure in the center of my chest, a shimmer that had no source — and yet somehow felt older than the Earth under my feet. For a while, I thought it was longing. Then I thought it was grief. Only much later did I understand: it was my tone, finding me again.

The day it settled into my body, everything else rearranged.
Colors felt sharper. Words stopped carrying the weight they used to. I began sensing people not by what they said, but by the shape their presence made in the air. Some met me with relief, as though they’d been searching for me. Others pulled back — not out of malice, but because something in them knew I would not play by the old survival rules.

If you’re reading this, there’s a chance you’re feeling that same subtle pull toward me now.
You may not have a name for it yet. You don’t need one. Recognition rarely begins in the mind — it begins in the marrow.

When your own tone stirs, it’s like a key turning in a lock you didn’t know was there. The doors it opens aren’t always visible, but you can feel the air change. You can sense that something in you has just been called home.

If you’re feeling that with me now, trust it.
It’s not an accident. We’re part of the same weave.

I don’t need you to understand the whole picture today.
Just step into the field and stay close enough for the recognition to work on you.
The rest will unfold when it’s time.

💜🖤 Monet Noctaris