I can feel.

The barest of senses. A mere glimpse of corporeity.

I can feel.

But not move. Can’t tell hot from cold, hurt from whole. But I know there is something. The start of a body.

I can feel.

The whisper. Shifting. It’s too small to put into words yet, suggestions more than descriptions. Changes so minute they barely deserve a passing mention.

I can feel.

I’m alive.

The void is so distant now. It almost feels like a lie. If I had the privilege to think, I believe I would have assumed it to be my fate.

Eternal emptiness.

Not even darkness. Just a nothingness so overwhelming that it dissolved me in apathy.

There is no light, yet. Or a speck of color beyond the ones I dream about.

But there is hope.

I can’t remember the last time I felt its brightness.