The possibility of you outweighs the life I’ve built,
Outweighs the noise of days that move without pause.
There's something in the almost, the not-yet, the near,
That feels more alive than what already is.
I've walked through rooms filled with answers,
But found comfort only in the question.
Certainty dulls, mystery breathes,
And you, or what you stand for, keep me awake.
Not everything worth holding takes shape,
Some things exist only in the space between thoughts.
And maybe that’s enough, to long, to wonder,
To stand before what never fully arrives.
Because in every unfinished thing, I find myself again,
In every silence, I hear the pulse of what could be.
And still, the possibility of you outweighs
The actuality of everything else.
Oct 19, 2025
Oct 19, 2025 at 1:45 AM UTC
The possibility of you outweighs the life I’ve built,
Outweighs the noise of days that move without pause.
There's something in the almost, the not-yet, the near,
That feels more alive than what already is.
I've walked through rooms filled with answers,
But found comfort only in the question.
Certainty dulls, mystery breathes,
And you, or what you stand for, keep me awake.
Not everything worth holding takes shape,
Some things exist only in the space between thoughts.
And maybe that’s enough, to long, to wonder,
To stand before what never fully arrives.
Because in every unfinished thing, I find myself again,
In every silence, I hear the pulse of what could be.
And still, the possibility of you outweighs
The actuality of everything else.
