8.11.24
We are mirror and mystery,
alike in ways only silence speaks,
different as shadow and flame.
Your language is curved with snow,
mine with summer dust.
But when we laugh,
we sound the same.
You were wrapped in winters I had never known –
from Bavarian hills,
far removed from the heat
of the township streets that raised me.
Somehow we opened the same book.
Adventure fiction, worn spines and wild maps—
we both chased meaning through ink and wind.
Something stirred
when we first touched thought –
a recognition, not of faces,
of flame.
We walked –
miles and metaphors,
side by side through forest, silence, and sound.
In rhythm.
In rebellion.
In step with the same ache.
One night,
barely clothed and wholly seen,
we danced in your living room.
Music melting into skin,
Laughter like incense.
The world outside forgotten.
You know
our chemistry is not of this world
it lives in spirit, in stillness.
We’ve held space across time,
separated to return.
In the hush between lifetimes,
I found you.
By finding myself.
Thirty-five years ahead
and somehow,
we arrived together.
-Lele
Lele Muthali 