We stand beneath the supernova,
chasing stars that only fade to night.
The longing in our hearts
feels like a wonderwall,
a wall of dreams we can never quite touch.
But in the quiet of our breath,
there’s a song, softly calling us home.
We’ve built shields, heavy and tall,
afraid to drop the weight of our fears,
but love’s song hums beneath it all,
calling us to shed the armor,
and stand, unguarded, in the light.
Because in the chaos of the storm,
there’s peace — if we dare to breathe it in.
What if the answers we seek
are not scattered in the stars,
but within the pulse of our own hearts,
in the warmth of a touch,
the calm of a knowing glance?
What if we don’t have to fight
to prove we belong?
In the quiet moments, we see the truth:
love is not the whirlwind we once believed,
nor the fleeting echoes of what was.
It’s the steady flame in the night,
the gentle glow of being here now.
And we’ve spent so long chasing,
we forgot that we were never meant to run.
Let go of the need to burn it all down,
to tear apart what we’ve built,
to search for meaning in places unknown.
The answer is right here,
in the soft curve of your smile,
in the knowing, that this love—
this imperfect, messy, real love—
is enough.
We are the small ax,
no need to fell the great tree.
We are the soft hands that cradle
the weight of what’s real,
no need to shield ourselves from it anymore.
Love isn’t a battle,
it’s a song we sing together,
a bridge built not by force,
but by the simple act of being.
So we stand, side by side,
no walls, no barriers,
just the open sky above us,
and the steady beat of our hearts below,
in the rhythm of love’s song,
where shields fall away,
and connection rises,
gently, as the dawn.
