—only you.

Often, life drifts ghostlike—

as if moments aren’t moments,

as if touch is without sensation.

People pass through,

but something deeper aches—

a hunger for someone

to see as we see,

to feel the thread that pulses

quietly beneath the noise.

Time slips like breath in winter.

Commitments, faces, laughter—

all fade too fast

for the love I hold in reserve,

waiting—

until you.

You came, woman—

just a woman.

But that is enough.

All that is woman

outweighs the stars,

outshines the universe.

Through you,

death retreats,

and life begins.

I do not know

what you are made of—

only what life was before you:

a crossfade between being and not.

Emotions empty, weightless,

people spoke

but remained untouched.

Nothing was enough—

until you, woman.

You—lovely, luminous—

center of everything.

You are the axis of time,

the reason behind breath.

Only now, with you,

can I truly be:

not alone,

not drifting,

but present.

Alive.

It is your smile

that sets the rhythm of the world.

It is your presence

that shapes the edges of existence.

And in that gift—

your being—

I find closeness,

belonging,

vibrancy,

truth.

In all things,

there is you.

Babygirl, yes—

you.

Everything beautiful

points back to you—

woman of women,

atom of atoms,

stardust of stardust.

True.

Complete.

Woman—

only you

— — — — — — — — — —

Often at times life feels ghostly and unreal. It is as if the moments are not moments, and the experiences are not experiences. People are here but we long for something deeper. We want them to see the world through our eyes, to share a common thread woven deep into the heart of our being. Their commitments feel fleeting as if people and time were the same, gone too fast to focus on the love I have here in reserve read to give. But, then, along came you, woman—a woman, just, a woman, and that is enough, because all that is woman is more than the universe itself.

It is through this woman that I may escape death and come into life. I do not know what you are, but I know what life is like before you, woman. All of this alive feels like nothing at all sometimes, where the world between nothingness and alive crossfade. Conversations feel unconnected. People feel like they here but gone, absent but fleeting present. Nothing is enough until you, woman.

You, lovely woman, center of the universe, every of the time—yes, you. You are the point. I know now but not before, and only now in you, the woman I know, can I be not alone, because it is you who give me life, you who makes the universe beat to your stride, your smile, your time, and it is through the life you give that offers me closer, and only you—closer that I am not alone, that I am in fact alive, and that I may truly be present and intertwined not alone, vibrant and being. In the gust of all of this it is and it always will be, about you. Yes babygirl, everything points back to you, a woman of women, a collection of atoms of atoms, stardust of stardust, true, complete, woman.