ALSphere Foundation
In the quiet of night,
when whispers fall like rain,
we argue with the dawn—
two flames that flicker, never burn the same.
Your laugh, a storm,
my silence, the calm that follows.
We clash like winter and spring,
yet bloom from the same root.
You pull the sun,
I chase the moon—
but meet in twilight,
where shadows blend, and light begins.
In the warmth of day,
we’re mirrors turned askew—
reflecting what’s both near and far,
a love that’s always true, though never clear.
