Of numbers, radiance and the world of our own

Of numbers, radiance and the world of our own

Do we even need to count
the magical days we’ve had
when it’s obviously countless?
I could number them to more
than five hundred days and
I’m still counting numbers
not even I could tell nor name.
But I love you enough to try
and gauge the moments you
and I had for both the shame
and the bliss; the radiance.
The sparkles blinded me for
quite a time and I did not see
that every single one that
touched my skin burned me.
I burned but it was a fire that
did not turn me into ashes.
Alas, you came along. You did
not sweep me off my feet, you
did not save me from anything;
but you lit the torch that is me.
Magic happened and unleashed
a rainbow in a world where you
and I reign as king and queen.
Our subjects did not bow before
us just as the odds weren’t always
in our favor, but that world was ours.
(Now, what is the point of counting
our days when the world is ours?)

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