TWO Roads, Same Flame—

We didn’t meet by accident—

our names were etched in the seams of time before we had breath,

before our eyes had learned

to unsee each other.

You were a signal, not a stranger.

A flare from a past life,

lit again in this one,

asking me—do you still remember what we vowed?

I did.

Even when your silence was loud,

even when your ego wore armor and laughter 

to protect the part of you that still cared—

I remembered.

We had two doors:

the healing path and the hurting path.

One required you to rise.

The other… required me to leave.

You chose what felt safer.

I chose what felt sacred.

Still, I don’t regret a moment.

You activated truths that I don’t chase,

so my presence is conditional now—

not because it’s less pure,

but because I finally am.

I cared for you in spirit, not fantasy.

Saw the man you were becoming,

not the one you kept pretending to be.

I was ready for the “united” version of us.

But the karmic version came first—

the one where I would hold up the mirror,

and you would look away.

And that’s okay.

Because even now, with our soul contract

burned to ash, I thank you.

You were the spark.

But I was the fire.

That had to burn through rejection 

and confusion to reclaim what I require.

By: Brianna Spurlock

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