They only know it feels right to be with one another.
Souls do not have calendars or clocks, nor do they understand the notion of time or distance. The presence that is felt through a hand held, a voice heard, or a smile seen. When two souls fall in love, there is nothing else but the yearning to be close to the other. How every smile, every whisper brings me closer to the impossible conclusion that I have known you before, I have loved you before-in another time, a different place-some other existence. 
I don't know how you are so familiar to me-or why it feels less like I am getting to know you and more as though I am remembering who you are. No, but I remember every song I have heard since you left. Do you remember the song that was playing the night we met?. But it was now time for her to go away-to find someone who could show her what happiness was. She thanked him for his gift of music and poetry but above all else-for showing her sadness because she had known neither of these things before him. When he asked her why, she took both his hands in hers and kissed them warmly. One day, he noticed it had been a very long time since her last smile. So he began to play them more and more until eventually, sad songs were all she would hear. She loved everything he played for her, but of them all-she loved the sad songs best. He would play his songs for her day after day and she would sit by him quietly-never seeming to mind that he could only speak to her through song. He watched while her face lit up with wonder as the music filled the sky and the poetry of lyrics moved her in a way she had never felt before. One day he met a girl who had never heard a single melody in her entire life and so he played her his favorite song. Once there was a boy who couldn't speak but owned a music box that held every song in all the world. It is in every considered step I am taking in the opposite direction of you. Like the pained silence felt in the lost song of a mermaid or the bent and broken feet of a dancing ballerina. There is a particular kind of suffering to be experienced when you love something greater than yourself. I hope someday you will find me and remember what I once meant to you. A crumpled note at the bottom of a drawer or an old photograph pressed between the pages of a book. I think this is where I belong-among all your other lost things. Yearning to be acknowledged for the worth they once held in your life. Everyone has one-an inventory of lost things waiting to be found. It is almost as if it never existed in the first place-until that moment of rediscovery, a flash of recognition. Do you know when you've lost something-like your favorite T-shirt or a set of keys-and while looking for it, you come across something else you once missed but have long since forgotten? Well whatever it was, there was a point where you decided to stop searching, maybe because it was no longer required or a new replacement was found. It was a question I had worn on my lips for days-like a loose thread on my favorite sweater I couldn't resist pulling-despite knowing it could all unravel around me.
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