or perhaps just hopeless wishes of the lonely.
I recall how I first wished for you,
how your luminous existence seemed surreal,
and how I wished to simply experience it and
understand the very nature of your being.
I wonder if you too were shocked
for I was not strictly looking to dance,
until your soul embodied melodies
that I was too powerless to resist.
And then I felt the way spirits recognised each other,
as though we carried an eternity of half lives
that became profoundly whole when we merged,
and it was then I realised…
I do not want to wish for you,
as though we were ever disconnected,
as if this universe has not woven us
within the fabric of existence itself
where we transcend all time and space.
Or as though we are not brimming
with these myriad continuities,
where familiarities and likenesses
reflect an ancient story to be remembered
rather than something new to unfold.
And so I do not want to wish for you,
as if this were unwritten or
as though meeting as the seasons’ change
were not preternatural allegory
for the story that should come to pass.
As if it were not a luminous foreshadowing
of how our phases of healing and evolution
were like seeds in the eternal Winters
of grief and darkness, before blooming
with light and warmth in the turn to Spring.
I do not want to wish for you.
Not as though the whispers in my heart
have not always thrummed your name,
not as phantasm or mere infatuation
but as though it has been lingering
and belonging for eternities within me.
Only I have just begun to decode the sound…
and so it is though we are akin to mirrors,
where we were denied the coalescence
and awakening of our divine energies,
until we tuned to the same frequency.
I do not want to wish for you,
as though this heart is capable of solitude
or the blood the beats beneath my skin
does not crave to pin you against walls
like the intricate masterpiece that you are.
I do not want to wish for you,
as if these threads are not already tied
or as though galaxies did not collapse when we met,
like I could ever forget the supernovas forged
in the crushing of your lips in our lingering kiss.
I do not want to wish for you,
as if your body does not hold my secrets or
that I have not seen the brilliance that refracts from your skin,
as if my soul has not borne the weight of your eyes
while whispering sweet nothings and making love.
In those moments I was not sure of anything
except that I was certain I would come to love you
with a depth even the primordial stars cannot comprehend.
I wish always for you, to be with you.
But…
I do not want to wish for you,
as though I’ve not always been yours.
Because my soul saw yours and immediately called it mine.
