If the sun should break and spill its fire,
if the sea should rise, devour the spire,
if all that breathes should turn to dust,
still, love—still, us.
I have touched the hush before the storm,
held the dark where stars are born.
Yet nothing—nothing—
has ever moved me like your name
unspoken in the quiet rain.
If time unspools, if light unwinds,
if heaven forgets what it designed—
then let it. Let all else fade,
for you are the thread that even fate
has never dared to fray.
Even in the end, if there is nothing, there is you.