Asking me if I miss you is
akin to questioning the stars if they long for the night
the sun if it yearns for its warmth
or the ocean if it pines for the rivers that birthed it.
I've beheld countless flowers
yet their scents remain uniform.
I've wandered through stunning landscapes
yet the wind carries the same essence everywhere.
Only in your presence does the wind impart a new fragrance to the flowers
an aroma previously undiscovered.
Even in total darkness
where you are silent and I am deaf
I would still recognize you.
Across different lifetimes,
in disparate forms with no recollection of our shared past
I would find you and love you steadfastly.
Until the final star fades from the sky
They question if my love endures beyond death. To them, I say, "Speak of her at my grave, and witness my resurrection."
