Love, you are the moon I follow through endless night,
a lantern beyond mountains I have yet to climb.
What are these miles but whispers in the wind?
What are these years but the slow turning of the sun?

You call to me from the other side of longing,
and though rivers rise, though the road bends and breaks,
I do not ask when—only how soon
this dust of waiting will settle into dawn.

Do not weep, beloved, for love is a flame
that burns away distance as fire drinks air.
I have already reached you—
for where your heart beats, so does mine.