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Where You Dance, the Light Sings
In your light, I unlearn the dark,
its stiffened tongue, its cold resolve.
And I find instead a language made,
of warmth, of wind, of soft dissolves.
Love arrives not like thunder shouts,
but like a candle's trembling vow.
I feel it flickering against my ribs,
teaching my silence how.
In your beauty, verses form,
not sculpted, not conceived by mind.
But breathed, like morning on the rose,
a hush that petals leave behind.
Your grace makes metaphors collapse;
No simile can ever hold your flame.
Instead, I ink the hush between
your heartbeat and my name.
You dance inside my chest, unseen,
no witness, save this thrum I know.
A pulse of presence so profound,
it makes the blood inside me slow.
I do not speak to you, still you move,
a swirl behind my every sigh.
And when I glimpse you, rare and true,
a sacred star falls through my sky.
That sight becomes this trembling art,
not mine, but merely channelled breath.
A prayer-shaped hush, a flame-writ line,
that dares to love beyond all death.
You are the muse, the moon, the sea,
the silence in the shell I chart.
And in the unseen, you shape my song,
where deep in your being, I become art.
I See You
In the hush between the ticking hours,
Where shadows curl beneath the tea-stained light,
I see you - yes, even now,
Even when you think the world has looked away.
You move through mornings like whispered prayers,
Gathering crumbs of courage from yesterday’s dreams,
Shouldering kindness like a well-worn coat,
Soft at the seams, but still stitched strong.
I see your effort,
Not the loud, banner-waving kind,
But the quiet heroism of simply rising,
Of showing up,
Of washing one more dish,
Smiling once more for someone else.
There is a grace in your weariness,
A dignity in your doubt.
You matter more than the world dares to tell you,
More than the mirror reveals
Or the silence admits.
Be gentle, dear traveller of tangled days.
You are not meant to outrun the dark
But to carry a candle within it.
And I,
With all the stars I can summon,
See you.