Linked

Souls are linked. Anywhere. Everywhere.

In café corners, in rainy bus stops, in libraries dusted with time.

Friends, family, lovers—or maybe strangers
passing by in the same second but tied across lifetimes.

It can be all. It can be none. It might be nothing
but a brush of fingertips that lingers too long
or an ache you can’t explain when you hear a stranger laugh.

A mystery, perhaps—or something people can’t see.

They think love needs names. They think connection needs logic.
But souls… souls don’t follow rules.

Linked in a way. Not loud, not grand. But quiet. Steady.
Like a string made of old dreams and half-remembered melodies.

It can be an object—a lost ring. A crumpled photograph.
A book with your handwriting in someone else’s home.

It can be a place—an alley you’ve never walked, but feels like yours.
A bench that holds your memory, even if you’ve never sat there.

But it’s always—
always—
hidden from the naked eye.