In the same brilliant way that
a dying star breathes life anew:
so too would I breathe for you;
so too would I end and birth galaxies with you.

Changing like seasons, like stars, like
galaxies, galaxies, galaxies...
through it all would I stay here with you.

And maybe I'm only a little old moon
rotating in circles around your vast shape:
inconsequential,
moored,
feeble,
dwarfed—

but the tides cannot lie where even stardust lips may.