A Bond, The New City, Yours and Mine, Called Home

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Here in the quiet interim, we learn the pace

Of things that grow in shade, and not by haste.

A seed of knowing, planted without sound, 

In the slow-turning, consecrated ground

Of friendship, where the light was just enough

To trace the lines of nascent, dawning love.

You didn’t storm the gates; I didn’t tear the veil.

We simply walked for a while and watched the details

Unfurl like ferns; a patient shared ascent,

As if we both knew what the silence meant.

A conversation measured, not in words,

Rather, in the settled peace of homing birds.

I have seen in you a truer pane,

A glass washed clean by more than common rain;

A glimpse of that far country, green and vast,

Where first things are forgotten, and the last

Stand made first; a hope triumphant and loud,

Yet breathing like light hidden behind the cloud.

More than a single flame against the frost;

A story written, waiting still to be voiced

In earthly prose. Two voices form a chord that rings

With the deep resonance of everlasting things.

Once-rumored glory, breathed then fully known,

By God’s grace, never meant to walk alone.

As each season turns, I do not fear the shadows’ fall.

Two masterworks cradled by the Shepherd beneath it all.

The Shepherd who calls each star by a loving name

Has traced our souls together within His frame.

As our hands draw near to intertwine,

His quiet seal confirms the sacred sign;

A bond not wrought of will, but of design,

Toward that new city, both your home and mine.

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