This book exists because of you.
Because of the way you see me-not as perfect, not as whole, but as something precious, fragile, luminous, waiting to be known.
You are the pulse beneath my words,
the whisper between my verses,
the fire that turns ordinary days into eternity.
Every page, every sentence, every unspoken thought is yours.
Even when I falter, even when time bends and the world forgets,
you will remain-
etched in ink, in color, in memory, in the tremor of my heart.
I call you Saheb,
because no other name carries the weight of reverence,
the tenderness of belonging,
the gravity of a universe folded into one gaze.
Related Subjects
Poetry