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She moves as though the heavens spilled their secrets

into her every motion,

a celestial alignment that the cosmos watches in wonder.

Her beauty is a statue chipped into twilight and dawn,

and I, am left to wonder how we belong.

My reflection in her eyes is fleeting,

a shadow cast upon water.

Yet even in this fragility, I feel whole,

for I know what I can offer.

Though I cannot match her radiance,

nor rival the orbit she commands,

When the sun itself envies her light,

and hastens to rise, surrounded by clouds of jealousy.

I will be wind that blows them to distant horizons,

leaving them a flicker of envy against the vast night.

The world may crown her queen of their gaze,

adoring what is seen,

but I will cherish the unseen:

The quiet gravity of her fears,

the delicate architecture of her dreams.

She may never know the ache I bear,

this yearning to rise beyond

my creation and be her equal.

But she will know the depth of my devotion,

Though I am no constellation,

Only I know the shape she makes in the night.

A promise that I will hold her steady

even as I am unmade in her pull.

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