A soulmate is a mirror forged of stars,
polished by silence, held in sacred space,
where love returns itself without demand,
and recognises its own ancient glow.

When you step into the orbit of their eyes,
time loosens its grip and softens its breath,
you are seen as you were before the wound,
before the forgetting of your own worth.

There is no hunger moving through that gaze,
no reaching hand disguised as devotion,
only presence meeting presence awake,
as galaxies pause to witness themselves.

Your self-love rises there like a tide of light,
not borrowed, not given, not made complete,
but magnified as sound is by a chamber,
resonant because it is finally heard.

Two flames recognise the same first fire,
bowing inward to a single, unseen sun,
neither consuming nor diminishing the other,
only brightening through shared reverence.

In this love, nothing fractures or dissolves,
no self is surrendered to be held,
love simply remembers its own name,
and rests, infinite, in reflected devotion.