When we were at each other’s cores,
you above and I beneath,
you were the light that colored the only world I had seen.

I engaged what I saw, and you slid to the side,
and suddenly all appeared more grey.
Those were the days when you seemed to be fading.

But at the last, as you blazed new shades
through corners I had never explored,
your vines of flame bleeding paints
of pink and orange into my sky,

you were centered, strong as ever,
and larger than I’d seen before,
stable as the river’s source,
while the one who turned was I.