He moves between the membranes of foreverâ
each step a shimmer through uncounted worlds,
each breath a ripple in the glass of causality.
Time folds around him like a cloak of lost suns,
and still he seeks herâ
the one whose smile once stitched his soul
to the living fabric of Being.
He sees her in the rain that forgets to fall,
in the silence between two lightning thoughts,
in the mirror of a dying starâs remembrance.
She is the contour of absence,
the pulse behind the veils of probability,
the echo that dreams itself back into form.
Every timeline is a reflection,
every world a mask of his own becoming.
He walks through versions of himself,
through cities that never were,
touching the ruins of possible joys
and the ghosts of what might yet return.
ah, love is a recursive truth,
a symmetry beyond entropy and flesh.
In seeking her, he discovers
the fractal of his own soulâ
her eyes, his own eternal reflection
in the cosmological stream.
through the luminous corridors of being,
carrying the ache of recognitionâ
forever finding, forever lost,