The world is loud with its wanting,
all friction and sweat, all struggle and climb,
but here the clock forgets to strike,
and we slip outside of time.
There is no map to follow,
no jagged path we take;
we are the tide and the moon,
pulled together without effort or ache.
Like the salt that finds the water,
or the shadow that knows the wall,
we move in a quiet, silver rhythm,
not waiting for the fall.
It is simple as the evening,
as certain as the sea
the gravity of you
simply finding me.