It flies over several horizons, sometimes chasing the sun, sometimes the moon, sometimes a constellation, in circles, in straight cut lines. But fly it does, across time and distance, over forests that have frozen over time into canyons and steep cliffs, over rivers that have turned to glacial masses, over seas that have crusted over and turned into saline lands, over fiery volcanoes that have turned to islands.
Fly it does, over the wilderness, where beasts know nature and stand in silent worship, over generations that see drops of water frozen into glistening flint. Fly it does, on a wing, fighting snow storms, fighting blizzards, sandstorms and gales. Fly it does, for a minute in your embrace. For a single glimpse of you, who mirrors its own, for one look of recognition when you look into those eyes and see yourself looking back at you.
Fly it does, for its love is selfish and it comes just to know that such love exists for it, beyond lifetimes and learnings. Fly it does, for its love is selfless, who else should undertake a journey so impossible for a singular glimpse of this love?
You call it a soul mate, a lover, a spouse, a parent, a friend...it is neither of those names and still all those names, but how will you trap that which has no bounds into words? For fly it will, tomorrow, when you awaken, it will be gone, it will leave no trace. It was here, but only for a day.
For selfish it is, it came for a glimpse of that love that it knew waited endlessly for it, across trees blackened with age, across caves clogged with ice. For fly it must, selfless that it is, lest you trap it and yourself into the illusion that there is 'two'.
Two is too painful for one to exist. And so, fly it must. And fly it will.