Did I cross the line?

If by line you mean the chasm keeping me from my heart?

From my soul?

How could a line not be crossed when a single red line draws you ever closer to me?

A proverb that proves too true to be born of fiction pulls you to me and me to you.

What is the line, you ask?

The line is a rope, desperate to be pulled taught; to bring two halves of a whole back together.

It is the thread of fate guiding twin flames through the sea of time, like a lighthouse guiding a ship home.

The line is a tether between two souls that have wandered the universe and lived every lifetime, desperate to become whole.

No, I did not simply cross the line.

I clung to it as my world shattered around me and I was born anew. Birthed into skin and bones and teeth that were meant to be yours.

That were meant to be claimed by your hands and your lips.

Again and again I will follow this line to you.

Again and again my soul will cross realities and destroy the fabric of time; it will soar among the stars, never settled or content until it’s where it’s meant to be.

With you.