In the end, there is no end —
Only the silence where stories bend.
Where names dissolve and time forgets,
and only the trace of love still rests.
What you have read is not just theirs —
It is the song that silence wears.
The breath you took when you first wept,
The dream you lost, the vow you kept.
It is the fire within your chest
That knows that love is never lessened
By absence, distance, pain, or years —
But ripens through the deepest tears.
The soul does not just seek its mate —
It seeks the mirror of its fate.
It seeks to burn, to break, to mend —
To know itself, and in the end...
To shed all shape, and still remain —
The whisper in another’s name.
To give, to part, to die, to rise —
To love not less, but more, more wise.
So when you feel the echo call,
Or sense the hush that holds it all —
Know this: the journey still proceeds,
Through every heart that loves — and bleeds.
And somewhere, past the veil of skies,
Two souls still meet with endless eyes —
Not you and I, not he and she —
But all that was and is to be.
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