Ancient Wind and Wave

We have worn a thousand different names,
In cities lost to dust and rising tides.
Before this life, I knew your quiet flame,
The way your spirit shadows, then it hides,
Then opens like a book I’ve read by heart—
A quarter-century is just the start.

You are the Scorpio, the deep, dark well,
The minor chord, the ink upon the page.
You find the secrets that the shadows tell,
While I, Aquarius, bridge the coming age;
The midwife’s steady hand, the healer's sight,
Guiding the hidden pulse into the light.

Our walls are resonant with what we’ve made:
The sonata’s reach, the poet’s sharpest truth.
Our children carry on the ancient trade
Of catching beauty from the ghost of youth.
I’ve held the breath of birth and death, you’ve held the pen,
And both of us would do it all again.

Fixed signs, they say—too stubborn to be swayed,
But that is why the foundation never cracks.
Through every storm and every debt we’ve paid,
We leave a single set of silver tracks.
My air meets your deep water, still and vast;
A mirror of a love built long to last.