Whatever the architecture of the cosmos is made of, your existence and mine were drawn by the very same hand. I recognize you not by sight, but by the quiet hum between my shadow and my soul—a secret space where the world’s noise fades into absolute reverence. You pierce the fabric of my days; you are the unwritten law written across my chest, the only verdict that makes sense of this trial. Even if the universe forgets everything else, I sit at the gate of this life, half agony and half hope, fully aware that my entire being bows entirely to your silence. If I know how to perceive beauty in the dark, it is solely because your silhouette is the lens through which I see the world.