By the time you circled back,
the field was empty.
No players. No cheers.
Just soft grass, dust in the air,
the last light slipping away.
You stood there for a while,
feeling the echoes.
Nothing lasts.
Everything leaves behind something sacred.
Shinto
A place holds spirit not because of what it is —
but because of what has been lived there,
and what still whispers …