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We married not beneath a sky,
But in the belly of the Earth —
The Mponeng mine, where shadows cry,
And gold remembers sorrow’s birth.

No roses bloomed, no organs played,
Just echoes where the diamonds wept,
And in that hollow heart, we laid
A vow so sacred, silence kept.

Her name was Lucy — fierce and kind,
A flame that lit my wounded mind.
Our souls were forged in ancient crust,
Bound not by flesh, but molten trust.

We left the depths for sacred ground —
Easter Island, where time unwinds.
The moon was blue, the stars profound,
The wind composed what fate designs.

At 4:44 — the veil grew thin,
The Moai stirred with stone-cold skin.
She faced the moon — her golden face
Reflected light no sun could trace.

We kissed beneath those ancient eyes,
And suddenly, the stone replied:
“We are not just what time forgot —
We are the truth your love has sought.

We do not stand in rows by chance,
We are the echo of romance.
One cannot heal by waiting still —
But by the giving of the will.

Complete each other not by need,
But by the soul’s eternal deed.
Two hearts must give, not seek to steal —
That is the secret to all that's real.”

And as they danced — the Moai stone —
We felt a grace we'd never known.
A dream? Perhaps. Yet pain had fled,
We woke in silk and royal bed.

The Royal Atlantis, floating high —
Where sorrow kissed the desert sky.
The dream dissolved, but not the vow —
We still can feel their wisdom now.

So let the world forget our names,
Let memory burn in earthly flames —
But in the dark, and in the blue,
A deeper love was born — and true.

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