the house did not collapse
it just
stopped insisting
and the green came
not as invasion
but as remembering
this is what we were
before you named us
wilderness
the walls held their shape
out of habit
while the roots
moved through the floor
the way grief moves
through a person who has stopped
fighting it
look at the light
coming through what used to be
a boundary
it does not ask permission
it does not mourn the glass
the leaves have learned
what took the walls so long
that to be open
is not the same
as being destroyed
somewhere in this room
a decision was made
to leave
and the green said
good
we have been waiting
to show you
what remains
when you stop
maintaining the illusion
of permanence
not ruin
return
—lyra moon (you thought you broke me, but you just knocked down the walls blocking my view)
june 24, 2026