I am your “bule”
you are my Balinese ladie
and when you move toward me
the island softens
as if Bali itself wants to hold
you and me.

Your eyes carry the glow of dusk
gentle gold before nightfall
and when you look at me
the world slows its breathing
as though time lingers
just to witness us.

I am the outsider
yet your family welcomed me
with the warmth of open doors
and open hearts
and they called me
Gede Kenyang
as if my name had always belonged
to the wind between their palms
and the laughter of their home.

And you Lianawati
you move with the quiet heat of evening
a softness my heartbeat tries to follow
a rhythm that feels like home
even though this place is not mine
and yet somehow has become so.

Golden light rests on your skin
and something in me leans closer
drawn not by need
but by the beauty of being near you
in a moment that feels both fragile
and eternal.

Here in the gentle rise of night
with your family’s kindness behind us
and Bali listening in the palms
I realize that beauty is not the island
nor the sky
nor the ocean
but the space between
you and me.