The Night Love Appeared

That night, when love appeared— not with thunder, nor with wings— but as a hush across the skin of earth. No stars announced it. No voice declared its name. Yet the sky, emptied of time, leaned in to listen. You— not seen, but known. Like warmth before the sun, or breath before a word. When your face rose in the heart of silence, the world paused— as if it remembered what it had long forgotten. I did not learn you through sight, or sound. I carried your echo before the world knew echo. No fire burned. Still, something vanished— a boundary, a name, perhaps myself. And I knew, not with thought, but with what lies beneath it— the hush that lingers after every ending. I loved you then— before “then” was born. No crown. No conquest. You stood where my breath begins, where silence learns its name.