You were so safe in thinking you were right,
that the distant call of fate was true,
and the one who held the key was you,
inventing all my dreams each night.

I've often stopped to search the skies,
believing I have found you again,
but most were only glimpses from within,
when last I saw you with my eyes.

You cannot feel the aching that I feel.
You always fear the shame of being found.
You yearn to bridge this unsafe ground,
and fly from those whose heart you steal.

I cannot hinder your retreat.
But witnessing the surge of morn,
I faintly hear your cries of being born,
and someday, wish you'll duplicate this feat.