I may be far away,
but I will be the sunshine that finds your face.
When a sudden,warm breeze
tickles the back of your neck
and makes you smile for no reason—
that’s my whisper,saying hello.

When our favorite silly song
plays in a crowded store,
I’ll be the rhythm that taps your feet,
the hum that escapes your lips.

I’ll be the unexpected laugh
that bubbles up from a happy memory.
A sudden,bright feeling
that you are wonderfully,happily remembered.

So, even when I’m gone,
look for me in the light,the music, the joy.
I promise,I will never let you forget me.

A sentence sent on silent wings,
A hope the lonely spirit brings.
A thread is thrown across the night—
A sudden,answering, gentle light.

Wishing you a day filled with those gentle lights.

Is the resentment still piled high,
or has it, like love,
faded into silence?

Not every night—
but when rain falls at midnight,
I know you rise, quietly,
to drink in its gentle serenity,
then burn with anger,
thinking of me.

You ask yourself, again and again:
“Was I always this way before?”

Believe me—
without you, even a starry sky
is nothing but moonless dark.
Even a sudden spell of drizzle
feels emptied of all emotion.

The wind did not divide us
Nor the chill of the long night
Or the city's lonely humming
That stole away the light.

It was merely our two hearts
Always beating out of time
And perhaps we never learned
The rhythm or the rhyme.

I do not know if it’s all illusion—
but I adore when someone lies awake, eyes wide with dreams,
tracing blades of grass, searching for me
among flocks of white herons.

I adore how someone falls in love with me
while watching a deer—hair spilled wild, resting
in pale blue light, waiting, almost breathless,
for the hour of longing to end.

And I adore it more
when they listen for dew to learn if I have arrived;
cradling a young hare, wondering if I, too, am restless;
holding a white flower, smiling softly,
gazing at swans and thinking of me.

When rain falls they run outside
just to feel me near.
I love it—
after the long day fades, or in the burnt stillness of afternoon,
when they return, weary as a dove, and look for me—
yes, I love it.

May they remain like rainfall—
gentle, everlasting, felt upon skin and soul.

I need you to understand
this single,unwavering truth.

If I taste the salt of the ocean spray,
or feel the sun’s first gentle touch on a dewy morning,
if I hear a melody that cracks the sky open
or hold a silence so deep it hums with the weight of the world—
every sensation,every breath, becomes a map,
and every map leads only to you.
The world is not the world without you in it;
it is merely a draft of a story,waiting for your name.

But,
if one day your heart grows quiet,
if the light in your eyes for me dims and fades,
my own heart will not beg.
It will learn the art of silence,
mimic your distance,
and build a fortress from the absence you leave behind.

If you ever let me go,
do not expect to find a ghost of me pining at your door.
I will have become the storm,not the shattered window.
I will have taught my roots to thirst for a different rain,
and I will grow toward a new sun,fierce and entire.

However—
if with every dawn,you choose me anew,
if your soul reaches for mine in the chaos of the day,
a constant,magnetic north,
then,my love, know this:

You have built a universe inside my chest.
A supernova of impossible light.
Every word you speak fans the eternal flame,
and every touch is a baptism.

I am yours not out of habit, but by destiny’s unbreakable decree.
My love is not a candle to be snuffed out;
it is the very oxygen that feeds the fire.
And as long as your heart beats my name,
I will be its echo,its rhythm, its unceasing reply.
I will be the shelter around you and the ground beneath you,
never leaving,always holding, forever yours.

The colors haven't faded, no,
they're just as bright as then.
It's that my eyes have lost the know-
ledge of what thrilled me when.

The melody is still the same,
it plays upon the air.
It just cannot ignite the flame,
or find its window there.

This isn't sadness, not a grief,
it's something far more still.
A silent,subtle, inner thief
that time cannot fulfill.