Somewhere We Rise

Requiem for the almost

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You were never
truly mine,
not in the quiet
ways of life.
No shared mornings,
no spoken vow,
no ordinary
woven time.

Yet something lingered
in the air,
a shape of future
softly drawn,
like distant bells
through evening light,
a path that waited
to be born.

Sometimes I wonder
if one moment
turned the tide
of all our days.
If one small word
had crossed the silence,
would the stars
have changed their ways?

If time had paused
a breath more slowly,
if courage
had arrived in time,
would we have walked
through open seasons
without this distance
in our lives?

I never lost you.
You were never mine to lose.
But somewhere lives
the life we almost chose.

Somewhere morning
waits for us to rise,
where distance falls
from tired skies.

Where voices meet
without the years between,
where what we felt
is finally seen.

But here we stand
on separate shores,
with quiet skies
and closing doors.
No blame to carry,
no tears to prove,
only the shadow
of a life we almost knew.

And if that world
still breathes somewhere
beyond the turning years,
may it remember
two wandering hearts
who nearly met there.

Not in sorrow, not in pain,
but in the gentle almost flame,

a quiet light the years can’t claim,
still burning softly
all the same.

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