I knew you not, but I knew you completely. I was in love with something of a memory, a memory that always was and always would be.

Sometimes I get lost in the familiar silence of aloneness. I hear the nothingness of my breath playing in the rough spaces of my memory, a wanting tale from an artist holding a longing brush against a canvas not always his own. There, the dream revived, I say her name - a prayer that echoes eternally in my chamber.

He prayed for the day when he'd become her North Star, a trusted and true destination she longed for. He would then be awakened in the night and she would be there, not as an aberration but as safe a port as he had ever known and one he would never want to leave. He, in turn, would light her sky with a love she had never known, and would never need search for again.

If I have a final word in this life,Let it be of my love for you.If I have but one last deed,Let it be one of my pure devotion to you.If I have but one last breath,Let it be used to say your name.

The grip of emotionEbbs and flows like an ocean tide,My head nestled In prayerUpon your breast,It is the way.