I see you.
You may not realize it, but I do.
I see you with eyes shaped by tides and waves, hills and trenches. When your joy explodes into the ether, and when the implosion of sorrow damn near pulls my heart out of my chest and straight into yours, I see you.
I notice you.
The way you reach for words when answers born from old fears rise up against a tentatively opening heart, or when you spin the rings on your fingers as you pretend the surge of decision isn’t rolling heavily across your face and shoulders. You carry all that is life so well, with such grace; do you even know?
Do you realize how beautiful you are when you meet fear with tender strength, or uncertainty with the next step, no matter how tentative? Do you know how you inspire me? Even while fumbling, you’re exquisite. When bliss bursts through your every pore, you are breathtaking.
I watch you navigate boundaries. I see how you reach when you can, how you honor your heart when you pull back. Society pretends that hearts are too soft, too irrelevant, and that boldness, bigness, hardness protects and powers through, but then what of tender truths and tiny reveals?
Where do they go to breathe when we fill the air around us with shoulds and fines and never betters?
Where do we go to carefully unwrap the most sacred pieces of us, the fire-forged and grief-hewn star parts of our spirits, transformed by love into inner microcosms, feeding radiance into our bloodstreams like luscious, passionate fusion?
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