For you, my peace, You said Christmas is about giving. This year, I found my gift was already here. Not in splendid packages, but in quiet moments, words of yours that settle softly in my heart, instinctive care tucked in your replies, And proof, small enough to hold: a postcard, a glasses cloth, a world folded down to fit my hands. Your voice weaving the distance between us into something we share, like weather, like breath. Grain by grain, they've piled— lighting the snowy wasteland in my heart into a landscape held in light. And so you’ve grown into a quiet certainty of my world, steady as my own pulse. With you, even the dangerous edge feels like where I belong. I used to think we were chasing the sun across snow All brightness, nothing to hold. But now I know, You are not a distant fire I must pursue, not a sun forever out of reach. You are the door left open, the true north on my map. I find my way to you, and in my own time I arrive. Merry Christmas.🎄 Please stay just like this in my world — a tender mystery, a deep and quiet calm. And plz, hold yourself with care. Yours, The one who is temporarily housed in human form, observing from the second dimension. ‎✶