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Billions of years crumble in an instant,
the speed of light suddenly not constant.
The laws of physics vanish from my view,
I can’t believe the universe produced a beauty such as you.
Constellations gather in her eyes,
and from her sweet lips comes the faintest of sighs.
I don’t know what goes on in that head of hers
but I bet it is just the most beautiful verse.
As she lay on the beach gathering sunburn,
I wondered if the Earth still turns,
because in that moment I truly knew
time stands still when I’m with you.
You know, something always bugged me about love.
I always assumed it was having someone there for you,
someone for you to care for and someone to care for you.
A star in a dark sky to show you the direction you were going,
the moon on your back lighting the way to somewhere warmer.
It was always an ember to me, something small but bright,
how it tricked your eye into being mesmerised by it,
how it danced on invisible winds and flowed like the air was water.
Sometimes it would happen little by little and other times all at once,
and when it was gone, it would make you beg for more,
have you scraping at the burning log to make more little embers.
I suppose there’s a beauty in that somehow, the subtlety of movement,
a staccato as a new breeze entered the ember’s airspace,
and how that little ember would judder in the air but still it would burn.

But years go by as they so often do, without warning or permission,
and you inevitably see things differently from a more mature viewpoint.
You have so much more to look back on, so much more to comprehend,
how everything you’ve ever done up to this point all fits together.
I don’t see love as one of those spritely little embers anymore,
love to me is so much more, a force of magic that binds souls together,
the universe, once thought so unforgiving, actually there to support you,
to guide you through the twilit marsh of existence, to heal the hurt.
I have experienced that magic firsthand, and I know it happens to everyone,
but so often we either look the other way or we can’t fathom what we see,
until it’s too late that is, when memories become cloudy with age,
when all that you had ever hoped to come true has been replaced by nothing,
but that too is magic, my friends, because magic knows nothing of time,
it transcends the very fabric of the universe that binds us.
Magic flows through the connections, seeps through the cracks,
and that is where love resides, not in the intimacy of no distance,
not in the warm embrace of someone who takes you for granted.
It’s in the very fibre of your being, you are composed of love,
of magic and the beautiful light show on display every waking moment.
Dance to the rhythm the universe provides, you are its melody.
Dance with me a little,
let me feel your hands in mine,
your hair brushing against my face.
Speak to me a little,
let me hear an angel’s voice,
your plosives giving way to silence.

But the dead don’t sing like they used to.
All the movies are black and white.
All the women look like Greta Garbo.
All the men look like James Stewart.
We’re all scared,
fear of the unknown
or something like that.
Not knowing what’s coming,
not understanding what’s been,
standing on the beach,
feet sinking into the hot sand,
wondering why the sunsets
don’t make you marvel any more.
Can’t see forests for trees,
can’t see constellations for stars,
can’t see fear for love,
can’t see love for fear.
Round and around we go,
playing and replaying,
time and time again,
what does it mean to hope?
A new future,
a light to cast the past in shadows,
or just an ember to light
a small speck of the path we’re on?
We’re all afraid of something,
all scared of nothing,
we’re strong and weak-willed,
heads held high and shoulders slumped,
ghosts in the architecture
of our mind palaces
we’ve built on past experiences.
The foundations are shaky
and the walls are close to collapse,
but this is our home, **** it!
Spread some joy,
speak to strangers,
learn about everyone,
question everything
and good heavens be kind to yourself.
This is your universe,
it cares about you.
Hit me a DM, always love learning about people
Facing northward
Expecting eastward
Suspecting southward
Wishing westward
In a dream I had last night, I carved this onto the face of a stone step, and it was touted as the greatest poem ever written. My dreams annoy me sometimes
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