|I saw the magic before you uttered a word.|
Can there truly be spring midst winter?
I ask myself this recurring question
Whenever thoughts of you insinuate
Loving fervor and perfection
Into the dank, left to be forgotten recesses
Of my threadbare reality.
Weaving my way within the hazy great divide
Between the living and the hurt,
I observe too keenly how I don't belong;
There is yet to be a home for me.
Stuck by choice in this deadening nowhere
As I refuse to ignore what I know—
I know what I felt upon first meeting you,
That magic between us that not everyone can find.
I know that logic and rational thought
Is what makes sense to the mind.
Nonetheless, we are more than logic and rationality.
We are treasured souls with a stunning and divine purpose,
And this adoring soul seeks a permanent home.
Can the sun turn winter to spring?
The transformation makes its way steadfastly without conscious thought.
So can you, my darling sunshine, warm my wintery frost
Into a place for your sure and safe landing?
Can my trying, challenging, and purely everlasting light
Guide you to embrace the road home to my heart?