Before the body,
there was only light…
two sparks circling the same sky,
whispering across the night
without names, without form.
Only memory waiting to return.

No promises of peace were made.
Only one truth:
When the time comes, shake me awake.
Break me, if that’s what it takes.

It was never meant to be easy.
Only real.

So when the fire comes…
eyes that know too much,
hands carrying a mirror
no one else dares to hold…
something ancient stirs.

Not a fairytale reunion.
Not soft edges,
but friction that strips illusions clean.

Some connections aren’t meant to soothe.
They arrive to undo.
To pull up what was buried,
to tap the nerves no one else could reach.
A mirror that doesn’t flatter,
but reveals.

The kind that doesn’t offer safety…
but demands truth.

And through the ache,
a quiet remembering:
this has happened before.

Maybe not in this skin,
but in some echo of a life
where recognition wasn’t a feeling…
it was a force.

Not everyone would see it.
But for those who’ve made the pact…
the soul knows.