There’s the sea, always breathing in and out.
And faded footprints from people passing through,
Who never really look this way for long.
Sometimes, my only friend was a little crab -
I’d whisper my secrets to,
As he dug in the wet sand.

But the tide always had other plans,
Dragging my words, and him, back into the blue wash.
Silence was the one thing that always stayed.
It was just the way things were.

Then one morning, something different.
Caught on the dark rocks - a fleck of white.
A single lily, impossibly clean.
I don’t know why, but seeing it there…
It felt like a little light switched on somewhere inside me.
Even the shore, usually so tired and gray,
Seemed to hold its breath for a second.

I told myself not to get attached. It’ll be gone tomorrow.
But the next morning, there were three more.
And then ten.

After a couple of weeks, the high-tide line, there -
Was a jagged scar of lily petals on the sand.
Not a crown, exactly. More like a welcome mat.
And the weight I’d carried for so long in my chest,
Finally started to feel a little lighter.

The air smelled like salt and something new.
Like hope, maybe, if I still remembered what that was.
Life has taught me not to trust good things.
I’ve learned that lesson well.
But standing here, with these lilies everywhere,
This quiet peace feels real enough to touch.

They aren't a kingdom. I'm not a king.
It’s just… my place. My home.
And this morning, for the first time I can remember,
The sound coming out of my mouth wasn’t a whisper.
It was a song.