I saw you not, yet knew you in the air—
A hush between the turning of the day,
As if the light, grown tired of bright display,
Withdrew to shape your shadow from its flare.

The stars stood still, as if they too would stare,
And time, disarmed, let silence have its say.
The world grew soft; all sharpness slipped away—
I found your soul in everything, and there.

No rose more patient bloomed, no wind more kind,
Than what I felt in thoughts I could not speak.
You taught the stubborn earth how to be meek,
And showed the blind the language of the blind.

Love, unnamed, unseen, and yet so whole—
You were the fire that finished making soul.

You are the gleam that rides the midnight tide,
A molten thread through twilight’s woven seam.
Like fire opals set in dark abide,
You glow between what’s real and what’s a dream.

Your voice unbinds the air with gilded grace,
A lilt that bends the weight of time askew.
Within your light, the dullest forms embrace,
Their edges bathed in sudden, vivid hue.

Should you depart, the world would break apart,
Its colors drained, its echoes lost in black.
The sky would hold no sun within its heart,
Nor would the stars find strength to glimmer back.

Yet if the dark should steal your light away,
Your fire would burn within my soul to stay.