You are not a mass of muscles and veins sewn together and held up by a spinal cord.
You're a collection of stories;
Words, sentences, stories
Hours, years, stories
People, conversations, stories
Water droplets, sand particles, stories
Highways, bridges and back alleys - stories.
You're a civilisation on your own;
With your own language,
Street signs, history and war cries.
So forgive me if my mathematical symbols don't coincide with yours sometimes,
If I shake hands as a greeting whilst in your culture a greeting is a kiss to the cheek,
If I order the wrong dish, pay in a different currency –
We are from different worlds, after all...
We have different number of moons, after all,
I don't know you and you don't know me;
So next time, I'll simply slow down in my orbit when I get closer to you
And I'll whisper - what is your name? what is your story? is this okay? can we? do you? should I?
We are different universes, you and I,
But we coexist side by side
And I've loved you too much to be fearful of questions.
Can I hold your hand?
Shall we walk together?
Will you help me learn the art embroidered at your seams?
Will you show me the same kindness the next time our worlds collide?
The next time our nouns don't align and punctuations don't match,
Will you be brave enough and gentle enough to just
Ask?