The Field of Beings
(Four poems to cross memory, grace, doubt, and light)
By Sophie Rouméas

III. From Doubt to Awakening

When you work on yourself,
time becomes fluid.
You touch your past,
and already your present bends.
Your future shifts course,
like a star that moves
because you’re looking at it differently.

Each act of forgiveness
opens a parallel door.
Each understanding
gives birth to a new reality.
You become a generator
of gentler possibilities.

Then comes silence—
that neutral, suspended place.
Everything seems still,
and yet everything moves.
Not outside.
Inside.

Your body vibrates with a subtle motion,
as if the space between your cells
were crossed by a thought.
You don’t feel a single emotion,
but a constellation of tendencies:
anger preheating,
joy in waiting,
fear hidden in the field’s depths.
All of them waiting, ready to be seen.

Nothing is defined yet.
You don’t say: I am sad.
You say: I could be.
You don’t say: I know who I am,
but: I could be this one, or another.

Then, in the instant you act,
the infinite gently folds back.
The world makes its choice.
You collapse—
you become.

Yet in the silence of the field,
the other versions of you remain,
waiting their turn,
tender and light, like sleeping possibilities.
You know it.
And it is soft.
And vertiginous.
And beautiful—
like a truth that trembles.