To the One Who Walks Beside Me

Not by chance,
but by the quiet pull of stars
and the whispered longing of spirit,
you appeared—
a friend not of circumstance,
but of the soul’s own choosing.

You see me not as broken
nor needing to be fixed,
but as becoming—
a being mid-flame,
mid-blossom,
mid-song.

Your presence does not press
but honors the silence
where I gather my strength.
Your eyes say,
"I believe in who you are
and who you are becoming."

We walk not ahead or behind,
but beside—
two hearts wide open to the mystery,
to the rising and falling
of becoming whole.

You call forth my dignity
with the way you listen.
You lift me with your truth,
never sharper than love allows.
And I return the same:
my hands unclenched,
my words rooted in care.

O soul-friend in this sacred meeting,
we are but lamps lit for each other,
burning steady
as we walk the path
toward even greater light.

PJB 2026