Why does this wound
never close, never heal—
this wound of parting,
this ache of distance?
Because the universe itself
is separation:
a trembling veil
between being and becoming,
a breath between two souls
that can never meet entire—
a vast expanse
where every longing
touches only its echo.
And still we bleed,
not for what is gone,
but for the glimmer of wholeness
that memory mistakes for loss—
the trace of unity
that flutters beyond reach,
like a butterfly
forever hovering
at the edge of light.
For in the heart of all division
something eternal aches:
a tenderness older than time,
a silence
that remembers sound.
And so we love,
and ache,
and seek again—
as the stars seek dawn,
as the soul seeks its forgotten twin,
through every wound,
through every world,
through the infinite distance
between one heartbeat
and another.
