It is written in the stars above - that we shall never meet,
any more than lovely moon - will ever meet the beach.
To gaze upon her pale shade - mirrored off the sea,
and have her waves break on the shore - for all eternity.
Eagerly I pray for tides - like the thirsty pray for drink,
to hear the music from the foam - and sea's tranquility.
I feel her pulling on my heart - with all her gravity,
a gentle language that she sends - spoken just for me.
Yet it's written in the stars above - that we shall never meet,
but when I feel her moonlit glow - I'll wait here happily.
Her beauty was as rare as counting to infinity.
Exponential in grace.
Equal parts predictable to irrational and a dash of paradoxical.
But still she contained all the answers to the universe if one just cared to do the math.
She set sail from the harbor on the last remaining ship, she had burnt all the rest.
I couldn't blame her. I understood why she did it,
as I stood on the shore with all my baggage in hand.
I crave you like carbs.
And all the salts of your body.
Why aren't cookies called, Bakies? You don't cook them, you bake them.
Secrets always taste better,
as they leave the mouth.
I loved how the universe manifested itself as her. And for that brief moment in billions of years, I was there for it.