A Constellation Apart

In the crucible of one golden summer,
We were forged, two sparks in a darkened sky,
Our hands a quiet alchemy,
Turning moments into something precious,
As if the stars themselves had conspired
To set us ablaze for a fleeting season.

You, the axis around which my universe spun,
A comet who traced the curve of my nights,
An ancient familiarity in your eyes,
Like I had known you in a thousand lives,
Each time, finding you just as you began to slip away—
And yet, each time, we lingered longer.

But the seasons are cruel, even to the stars.
And there are journeys the soul must take alone,
Even when the heart protests,
Even when every constellation whispers your name.

We part like planets in retrograde,
Our paths diverging, pulling us toward different skies.
But in my bones, I feel the promise,
An esoteric knowing carved into the fabric of the cosmos:
We are but two seekers on parallel quests,
Drawn again and again to the same sacred circle.

For you are the philosopher's stone in my chest,
The missing piece to my celestial chart,
The echo of a prayer murmured in the dark,
Answered in your laughter, in your breath.

And though I walk through labyrinths of longing,
Charting my own course among unknown stars,
I know we are etched in each other’s myths,
Destined to meet again, in this life or the next,
When our souls, having grown stronger,
Return to find what was never truly lost.

Until then, I hold the secret of us
Like a talisman against the darkness,
Knowing that some loves are written
Not in the dust of earthly days,
But in the eternal ink of the heavens.