You stand so still, yet I can feel
the weight you bear, the truth so real,
the quiet strength of those who wait
while others tend the hands of fate.
I hear you in the silent space,
a steady pulse, a grounded grace,
a voice that doesn’t ask or press,
that holds me close yet frees the rest.
I walk these halls with borrowed time,
with endless steps, this hill I climb.
But know each page, each trial I face,
I carry you—a gentle place.
I see the world you’ve set aside,
a life on hold, a love untied,
unfurling softly, bright and true—
the steady patience of your view.
In every pause, in every break,
between the strides I’m bound to take,
I feel the echo of your song,
a warmth that holds when nights feel long.
You’ve given time, a gift so rare—
a silent vow, a watchful care.
And though I’m bound to battles near,
I know your light, unwavering, clear.
I may be late, the journey slow,
but your patience lets my spirit grow.
It’s through your calm I find the grace
to meet my path, to keep my pace.
If fate allows, if days permit,
when fires cool and stars have lit
the path I need to find what’s mine,
I’ll turn, I’ll look—and see you shine.
NOTE:
This is a response to the poem In the Space Between: An Ode.
Everlost 
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