In this life, I have had my struggles—
Mankind’s abuse, intolerance, wars, and corruption.
And no different were the personal aspects:
love, home, happiness—
All fleeting, no peace, within or external.

Then, I found you.

At first, I sought tranquility—
An ear to bend, a friendship perhaps.
Yet, you needed serenity, a peace within.
So, it was I who lent the ear, the shoulder, the words of understanding.

In this endeavor, I saw in you a trampled blossom—
Damaged, bent, a bit broken, but not a loss.
You just needed someone, anyone, to care,
To show you the light through the dark.

So, I listened, I nurtured,
Shown light, provided warmth,
Fed you, and caressed the soil with tears,
Until you felt whole again.

To be clear, I didn’t fix you;
I didn’t mold you.
You were whole, you were full of worth.
I only let you see what I see in you.

In turn, you saw me, as I saw you—
Someone discarded on the refuse of life.
Imparted, nay, reciprocated, the kindness you had received,
Knowing that I, like you, lay scarred and injured, but not a loss.

Tranquility and Serenity—
Words often interchanged,
But both have meanings that aren’t quite the same.
For one is peace in your surroundings, and the other is peace from within.

You cannot seek one
Without discovering and embracing the other.
Two sides of the same coin, like Yin and Yang,
Always seeking balance.

You guided me,
Lighting my way through the darkest moments.
I held steadfast, unwavering—the rock you needed,
A new foundation to build upon.

I confess this truth to you,
As you have given both, reciprocal,
As I have given unto you.

Time will tell.
This story has not ended.
It is still being written—
A journey to destinations unknown.

And all because,
I FOUND YOU.

I walk alone,
where the sand forgets me.

Water calls ahead,
"It looks real",
"But so does a mirage".

My throat begs,
but my mind doesn't trust.

So,
I watch from afar.

Your laughter, a trill of high notes,
cascading like arpeggios across the ivory keys
of my heart.  Each touch, a melody I crave,
a vibrant chord resonating deep within.

Your eyes, the deep bass notes, holding the weight
of unspoken stories, of passions yet to unfold.
I see the rhythm of your soul in their depths,
a slow, deliberate tempo that draws me in.

Your voice, a mezzo-soprano's caress,
weaving tales of joy and sorrow,
a narrative played out on the strings of my being.
Each word, a carefully placed note, building the symphony
of our intertwined lives.

Like the sustain pedal, your presence lingers,
a constant hum beneath the surface,
coloring every phrase, enriching every passage.
Without it, the music feels incomplete, hollow.

There are moments of dissonance, sharp and jarring,
like a wrong note struck in the heat of the moment.
But even these discordant chords contribute
to the complex harmony of our love.

We are a duet, sometimes playing in unison,
our hands moving together in perfect synchronicity.
Other times, we engage in a playful counterpoint,
each voice distinct, yet contributing to the overall composition.

There are movements of loss, a somber adagio,
where the melody falters, and the silence stretches,
heavy and suffocating.  The music fades to a whisper,
a lament for what was, and what might have been.

But then, a crescendo of hope, a triumphant allegro,
rising from the ashes of despair.
Redemption echoes in the vibrant chords,
a promise of renewal, a testament to the enduring power of love.

And as the final notes fade into a peaceful diminuendo,
I realize that our love is a sonata,
a masterpiece composed of passion, vulnerability,
and the unwavering belief in the transformative power of connection.

When a man says "I am fine,"
it's a loaded phrase, a carefully constructed wall.
It's not a declaration of well-being,
but a shield raised against the world,
a silent plea for understanding,
masked as stoic acceptance.

"I am fine" means
the turbulent sea within is best left undisturbed.
The storm rages, the waves crash,
but the surface remains deceptively calm.
To speak of the tempest would be to invite chaos,
to unleash a torrent of emotions best contained.

It's the weight of unspoken words,
the burden of unshared sorrows,
pressing down, a constant, dull ache.
To open the floodgates would be to risk vulnerability,
to expose the fragile heart beneath the armor.

"I am fine" is a fortress built of solitude,
each brick a carefully chosen silence.
It's a refuge, a place to retreat and lick wounds,
away from prying eyes and well-meaning concern.
The world expects strength, resilience,
and "I am fine" is the uniform of the stoic warrior.

It's the fear of being a burden,
the worry that sharing pain will only amplify it.
Better to shoulder the weight alone,
than to inflict it upon those who care.
"I am fine" is a sacrifice, a self-imposed isolation,
born of a desire to protect.

It's the exhaustion of explaining,
the weariness of dissecting every feeling,
every nuance of pain.
Sometimes, silence is the only solace,
the only way to navigate the labyrinth of the mind.

"I am fine" is not a lie,
but a carefully curated truth.
It's the truth of the present moment,
the decision to postpone the unraveling,
to postpone the vulnerability.

It's the hope that the storm will pass,
that the sun will eventually break through the clouds.
"I am fine" is a temporary truce,
a promise to oneself to face the darkness,
eventually.

"I am fine" is a code,
a language spoken in hushed tones.
It's a signal, a request, a boundary.
It's a man saying,
"I am fine,"
for now.