Morning birdsongs,
soft enough to miss,
but once heard,
impossible to forget.

They stitched their way
through the stillness of my soul,
teaching my chest
something more
than just
survival.

They led me to a gentle horizon
where stillness transcends all,
yet showed me
even the sun must rest.

A hush fell where the birds once sang,
the golden illumination faded
into a night so silent
empty.

The moonlight shrouded
by thick blankets of gloom,
and I wonder
why this had to end?

But the tide held my hand,
told me not to fight the moon,
to dance with it.

The starlight glimmered,
kissed my cheek with a pacific indifference
and led me
from slumber deep,
to a waking eye.

In the first light,
I found your song again,
not in the air,
but in the pulse of my breath

and in the quiet of the dawn,
I realised that love never leaves;
love transforms.