In her eyes, time loosens its grip
and eternity rises like a hidden sun.
Worlds open. Silence deepens.
And the breath between us becomes a prayer
older than memory.
In her eyes, I see the Mother—
soft, nurturing, ancient as dawn.
I see the Daughter—
joy unbroken, innocence reborn.
I see the Lover—
fire wrapped in tenderness,
fierce and gentle in the same breath.
But I also see the Girl—
the one who longs simply
to be known,
to be seen,
to be loved,
to be allowed
to just be.
And my heart answers her longing
with a longing of its own.
I ache to know her depths,
to hold her becoming,
to witness her unfurling
like a flower warmed awake by spring.
As I look into her eyes,
peace settles over me like a cloak—
yet joy trembles beneath it,
and fear flickers too,
the holy fear of being seen
so completely
that nothing of me remains hidden.
And still—
I submit to that love.
Not as surrender to loss,
but as surrender to truth.
I submit to her essence,
to the divine fractal she carries,
to the softness and the storm,
to the radiance and the ache.
For in her eyes
I find not another heart—
but my own heart
returned to me
in a form I can finally hold.
And I will honor her journey,
her becoming,
her unfolding,
as though it were my own—
because it is.
By Keith Brown