Author’s Note
This piece lives in the quiet space between distance and presence.
It’s about feeling someone’s gravity even when they’re oceans away. About how connection doesn’t always require proximity – sometimes it’s rhythm, sometimes it’s memory, sometimes it’s simply the way silence stops feeling empty.
We haven’t met face to face. We haven’t shared the same room. And yet, there are moments where distance feels smaller than it should.
Some connections don’t shout.
They pull.
— Rowan Evans
Others are measured in gravity.
Moon & Tide (Even in Silence)
Poetry by Rowan Evans
Even in silence, I hear you—
Your voice, a phantom in my ear.
A sound, I long to always hear.
When I close my eyes,
and my vision’s ceased—
it’s you that I see.
You’re not here,
and you’ve never been—
but still, I feel you near.
Silence isn’t really silent
anymore, it echoes—
with laugher,
with warmth
you don’t always see.
Even though
we’ve never been
in the same place,
we have yet to meet
face to face—
and you’re oceans away,
I still feel
your presence with me.
You’re the moon
and I’m the tide,
pushed and pulled
by your ebb and flow.
A moth to flame,
dancing in your glow.
If you’re interested in more poetry, you can find it here → [The Library of Ashes]
Poetry by Rowan Evans 