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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