The air bends between our hands,
like tides pulled by unseen lands,
a shimmer stitched in the seams,
a murmur beneath our dreams.
The dusk quivers at your breath,
the hours sway, defying death;
in your glance, the world unspools,
drunk on laws beyond all rules.
Your shadow carves into mine,
silent marks of sacred sign;
the stars sway with every glance,
caught in the breath of a dance.
Each step births a trembling chord,
threaded through the broken word,
where every unspoken sigh
stitches wings across the sky.
You are the storm in my skin,
the compass that spins within,
summoning winds from the deep,
where silent prophets still weep.
Oceans rise in slender veins,
mountains kneel and break their chains,
when the weight of your gaze sings,
folding time with unseen wings.
The ivy clings to the stone,
just as longing finds its home;
your presence shapes every door,
woven into marrow's core.
A tremor born without sound,
a rootless fire underground,
you call rivers from their bed,
pulling blood where reason fled.
Your nearness—a sacred crime,
a theft of space, pulse, and time;
a vow written without tongue,
a hymn only silence sung.
Thus we fall, like ash through air,
caught in thrones of hungered prayer,
offering bone, breath, and skin,
to the pull that burns within.