Thought for a second

 I’ve been longing to meet my life

someday, somewhere—
beneath a hush of autumn’s waning light,
or in the silent bloom of dawn’s first breath,
where shadows leer but hope still glimmers.

There, between the pulse of passing hours,
I’ll trace the shape of all my could-have-beens:
the scattered letters of unspoken dreams,
the folded maps of roads not taken,
the silent prayers I sent into night’s dark well.

I imagine you waiting at a lonely crossroads,
your face a mirror I almost recognize,
eyes reflecting the weight of years
spent chasing echoing footsteps
through corridors of “maybe” and “if only.”

We’ll meet when the wind carries
the scent of distant tides and old regrets,
when my heart has shed its brittle armor,
and the scars beneath my ribs
have learned to hum a quieter song.

Let us stand beneath a sky made fragile
by the tremor of falling stars,
and share the warmth of something real—
a trembling hand, a whispered vow,
the gentle promise of beginning anew.

I’ll tell you of the storms I survived,
how I built a fortress out of longing,
how every breath became a silent poem
written just for you, though you were still
a ghost I hoped would someday breathe.

And you will smile with tender knowing,
as if you carried all my scattered pieces
in the secret chambers of your soul,
ready to stitch them into a tapestry
where sorrow and joy become the same light.

Then, with dusk folding us softly into its arms,
we’ll walk onward—two pilgrims made whole
by the simple grace of recognition:
that life is not a place we find,
but a meeting that finds us, at last.