You may open the windows one night 
to feel the wind wrap around your body, 
to breathe in an essence that traveled 
across vast oceans to reach you.

You sense me there, 
flying and spiraling through the dark cold, 
searching for a way back with only a map of winding stars, 
each night their steadfast glows reflect 
along the endless depths of rippling waters.

When the sun sinks below the horizon, 
I'll cling to its fleeting warmth, 
paint your face along canvas, 
hum the hymns that form
in your lungs and float through your lips, 
any ritual to keep your memory near, 
to never forget the music of your voice.

With every second I sail, 
the ocean shivers from all life
swimming below the crystalline surface.

I may open the window one night 
to feel the wind wrap around my body, 
breathe in an essence that's remained close 
since the day you watched me pull away from the shore, 
traveling to lands we barely knew the shapes of.

When you watch the dark sea at night, 
marking the absence with a map of still stars, 
their steadfast glows join with the lighthouse you guard, 
the towering beacon I've dreamed of, 
reflecting along the endless miles 
I've crossed to see you again.

The beam of light streams through the dark cold, 
calling me to finally reach the coast, 
where my breath forms in your lungs, 
and my name floats through your lips.

I'll reach a night where I can cling
to your warmth after sunset, 
to never forget how long we have waited to reunite, 
how all oceans shivered beneath me with life, 
but I wasn't alive until knowing 
the shape of you once more.