Not a colour the eye can see.

A colour remembered before words.

Some keep it close, carrying it quietly through their lives.

Others forget.

They hand it away, bury it beneath obligation, noise, and certainty.

Yet it never truly leaves.

It waits.

And sometimes, in an unexpected moment, something inside us stirs.

A place.

A face.

A piece of music.

A line in a forgotten book.

And for a heartbeat, we recognise ourselves.

Not as we have become.

But as we have always been.

In the Fifth Light