There was nothing left to say.
No stories to explain,
no wounds to revisit.
Just silence—
vast and gentle,
like a sky that had finally come home
to its own stars.
We sat together,
not as lovers
who had conquered time,
but as souls
who had always been one—
only waiting for time
to remember.
There were no promises.
No need.
What vow can surpass
the wordless truth
of two spirits
who were never truly apart?
We had moved beyond names,
beyond roles,
beyond even longing.
You weren’t someone I loved.
You were the part of me
that had wandered out
only to find its way back
like breath returning
to the chest.
We had not reunited—
we had reawakened.
The years apart had been real,
but now they seemed
like a dream we’d both watched—
a story the universe had told itself
just to prove
how enduring love truly is.
Because some unions
are not written in fate—
they are carved
into the pulse of existence.
They are what keep the stars turning,
the oceans breathing,
the earth singing
its silent hymn.
We were not in love.
We were love—
pure, formless,
as simple as still water,
as vast as the sky.
And when I looked into your eyes
for the last time—not with fear,
not with fire—
but with that deep, final peace,
I knew.
We were never two.
We had never been.
We were one soul—
split into bodies
for a while,
only to be woven again
by the quiet hand of the cosmos.
This was not a story.
It was not a miracle.
This—
was a decision
made long before time began.
It was the universe itself
choosing to whisper
through our breath.
And so, when the winds blew soft,
and the sky turned gold,
and the world stood still—
we did not hold each other tight.
We simply were.
Two souls.
One being.
No end.
No beginning.
Only this truth:
This was never just love.
This—
was the will
of the Universe.
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