Strange how intriguing it has become
to be an indefinite time traveler
between love
and all that unfolds beyond

I longed for that moment
when our spirits would meet
at the horizon
where we would become onlookers
of our own cosmic occurrence

In a way, they did.
Behind your veil, I saw them.
And yet the longing remains

What a strange sensation
to mourn a departure that never arrived.
A disoriented love
suspended from its source

Whispers of past lives persist,
echoing fears from the skies
The imbalance cannot sustain
Lovers must meet halfway

How strange it is to mourn the sweetness
of a fruit that never ripened
To have foreseen its bitter taste
when it was picked before its time

Only a mother would know the ache of an unborn love,
of the unconditional energy that grows roots in the spirit and branches into the unknown,
transcending the limitations of
its own time

How strange it is to feel a heart fight for its own beat,
surrendering and growing all at once

Untitled, 2022