I don’t just love you—
I tune to you,
like moonlight learning the language of tide,
like a room going quiet
so one soft note can rise.
Your laugh is the rhythm
my restless heart obeys.
Your name is a chord
my whole life wants to play.
When the world comes in loud,
you don’t fight it—
you bring it into balance,
turning sharp edges into music,
turning “almost” into home.
The algorithms know us better now than we
Know our own neighbors through the manufactured walls,
While climate refugees crowd embassy halls
And currencies collapse in bytes set free.
The old order frays—no center left to hold—
As water wars replace the oil campaigns,
And AI harvests data like acid rains
That corrode what democracy we sold.
Yet somewhere gardens grow on rooftops still,
And strangers share their bread when systems fail,
The young build networks that the old can’t kill,
And truth persists beneath the sponsored tale.
We stand at crossroads, weary, halfway through—
Part dystopia, part dream we might renew.
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