Oceans stretch and mountains sigh,
days dissolve in longing's cry;
yet one spark defies the night,
threading souls in woven light.
Silent clocks may steal the hours,
dreams may wilt like weeping flowers;
still your name within me grows,
blooming past the winds that blow.
Glimpses of your voice remain,
soft as mist, yet sweet as rain;
pulling me through hollow skies,
painting dawns behind closed eyes.
Fingers ghost where you have been,
tracing echoes on my skin;
aching arms forget their weight,
when they find your destined gate.
Breaths once shallow find their song,
where our hearts have grown so strong;
emptied skies and barren seas
bend before our whispered pleas.
Though the silence claws my chest,
though the nights have lost their rest,
I am whole within your gaze,
cloaked in fire and woven haze.
Hands once trembling, worn with ache,
find their pulse for heaven's sake;
in your arms, the world reweaves,
patching every broken seam.
Time and sorrow try to part,
yet they falter 'gainst the heart;
in the hollows where I weep,
you have built a light so deep.
No more stranger to the rain,
no more singer of the plain;
with your spirit twined in mine,
even storms shall bow in kind.
Letters could not hold the grace,
nor the hush of your embrace;
neither song nor book can bear
how your nearness strips me bare.
Clouds may march and rivers turn,
still my veins for you shall burn;
one true root within me holds,
one great ember never cold.
Paths may darken, bridges fall,
voices perish, angels call;
but your hand across my dreams
gathers all the shattered beams.
You are sunrise in my blood,
you are flood within my flood;
when I falter, slip, or bend,
you are storm, and you are mend.
Thus the compass finds its way,
thus the trembling hands shall stay;
thus the void has lost its throne—
for you came, and I am home.
Bound by whispers, stitched in flame,
bound by breath that knows no name;
neither night nor grief can sever
what was built to sail forever.