It isn’t just the way you speak, Though your voice is a tether to the day; It’s the silence we inhabit together, A shared language in the fray.

I think our spirits met long ago, In a space before breath or bone, Tracing the maps of constellations Until we found a path back home.

There is a pull beyond the physical, A gravity that doesn’t answer to the earth; A recognition in the marrow of things, Measuring what this quiet peace is worth.

It isn’t a fire that burns itself out, But a steady and hallowed glow, Feeding on a well of ancient light That only the two of us know.

We are not just two paths crossing, But two rivers returning to the sea— I spent a lifetime looking for a door, Only to find you were the key.