They say the moon only has one tide,
but what about me, the man whose soul breathes in four winds?
I’m not a sailor lost at sea,
but a compass drawn by the gravity of four planets
each a flame, not to be consumed by,
but to be illuminated through.

To love many is not to divide,
but to multiply without subtraction.
Each heart, a mirror in the cathedral of the self.
Each woman, a temple with her own rites,
her own sky, her own storms.

I walk barefoot, sacred in transparency,
leaving no footprints in secrecy’s sand.
For trust is not gifted it is grown,
watered with eyes that never flinch from truth,
even when truth shivers naked in the room.

There is no ownership here, only orbit
four celestial bodies, held not by chains
but by gravitational choice.
The quad is not a square to be boxed in,
but a mandala where souls spin freely
in conscious choreography.

Infinite love is not chaotic.
It is geometry in motion
the spiral that returns to center,
again and again, never the same,
yet always whole.

So if you ask how one can love many,
Like I’m tired to heard or read the same question
hear this:

I didnt divide my heart.
I expanded.
And in that expansion,
I became not a lover of women,
but a student of the divine
With four different dialects of the same sacred language.

Call it madness.
Call it magic.
But those who dwell in fear
will never know the stillness
that comes from being seen,
by many eyes,
and still being one.