When Names Were No Longer Needed

 

There came a moment
when even our names
fell like autumn leaves—
soft, surrendered—
no longer needed
for recognition.

Not you,
not I,
but something between us
that never spoke
yet always answered.

No footsteps,
no whispers,
no touch—
and yet,
you passed through me
like a breeze
that remembers
where it once belonged.

We stopped counting days.
The moon didn’t rise for time,
but to reflect
the stillness between us.

I could feel you
in the way
my breath paused
before a thought,
in the way
a tear shimmered
without falling.

You were no longer a figure—
you became
the color of dusk,
the hush before rain,
the quiet glow
inside my closed eyelids.

And I?
I dissolved too—
into the scent
of wet earth,
into the pause
between two verses of a lullaby
sung only to the stars.

We didn’t find each other
in a place.
We remembered each other
in a feeling—
the kind
that rises before sleep,
when the body forgets
and only the soul listens.

Now,
we don’t wait.
We don’t seek.
We simply
are.

Like the murmur
beneath waves,
like light
traveling
without direction,
like a heartbeat
that doesn’t know
where it ends
and where the other begins.

Love no longer calls us—
we are love itself,
spilled across the night sky,
drifting from one star to another,
repeating the promise
that once had no words.

You,
in my every silence.
I,
in your every breath.

We,
beyond return—
beyond form—
resting gently
in the infinite fold
of a single soul
remembering itself.