The gravity of spirit pulling my heart ever towards thine
No word doth thou say to me, nor ever do ye glance in my direction.
Oh that I might forget ye exist.
So often does logic say “he is nothing, he cares nothing for thee.”
And yet fate doth ever pull thy actions, thine existence into my path.
I would not love thee. I would not remember even thy name if I could.
I would yield to those whose place, from the distance of where I sit, is more deserving than I.
For who am I but a stranger?
Why do souls remember one another?
Why does Time torment me with knowledge of what was in other lives?
Blessed are those who experience existence as but once born.
Blessed are those deluded by the illusion of time linear.
For they love not eternally, remember not the spirit’s antiquity.
But here I stand, remembering and loving, recognizing ye for who thou was.
I remember our friendships.
I remember our marriages.
I remember the work we together mastered for the good of the many.
Is what I feel merely an echo of the past?
Or are the poets correct and love endures beyond the ending of the world?
Oh dearest soul, I do love thee.
I love thee so much that I fear my every breath is of offence to thee.
I fear to speak, to feel, to be lest ye look upon me with unkind regard.
I fear that by my knowing I love thee that I offend ye and cause ye pains.
Why is it with thee I feel thy life, thy comfort, thy pleasures supersede mine?
Why would I rather weep in lonely despair than speak up and say to thee clearly, “I love thee?”
In so many things my courage, my inner light is proven.
I am so strong, so confident.
Except towards thee.
Logic says there is an equal chance ye regards me highly.
Reason says that all that is beautiful and good about me fills thy eyes and pleases thee.
Here stands a woman of beauty, a tender-rose, an innocent flower!
Tender her with chivalry and grace,
For she is rare and blooms despite a life of bitter wind, snow, and darkness.
And by thy observation of these things, thou art amazed and filled with wonder.
Oh sweetheart, soul of my soul and heart of my heart
Wilt thou not confirm thou looks upon me kindly — not with pity — but appreciation?
Say me to me thou rememberst me too.
Say to me that my light reaches thy eyes and warms thy heart!
Hold me close as you did for centuries.
Show me I matter to thee!
Show me truly that I am not alone.