Who Dwell in My Life

I raise my voice to the sunrise‑kissed horizon,

where every amber strand of light is a braid of you

the laughter of a tide that folds into another tide,

the echo of a bell that rings only inside my chest.

You are the sunrise, you are the moon’s soft sigh,

and I, a humble cartographer, draw your constellations

upon the parchment of my heart.

You are the violet‑hued river that refuses to run straight

a labyrinth of currents that swirl in emerald loops,

each bend a secret smile, each ripple an unspoken hymn.

I step into your waters and feel the world dissolve,

as if the very air were spun from silken threads of jade,

and I become a fish that dances with the moon’s reflection,

joy spilling from my gills like sunrise on glass.