Prologue: The Breath Before Becoming
Before the name,
before the flame,
there was a silence —
not empty, but expectant.
Two sparks slept
in the womb of time,
curled in the hush
between heartbeat and breath,
waiting
not to meet —
but to remember.
Part I – The Silence After the Union
Now that the stars no longer sigh,
And heaven has breathed its final why,
They meet — not as strangers bound by fate,
But as echoes returning through timeless gate.
No questions left for lips to form,
Their silence speaks in a softer storm.
Not fire nor wind — but breath aligned,
Two spirits merged, beyond mankind.
She, a hymn in flowing light,
He, a dusk that kissed the night.
Together they moved in sacred spheres,
Not chasing dreams, but shedding fears.
His voice, a flute of wind on stone,
Her gaze, a prayer he’d always known.
No past to claim, no name to bear,
Just presence pulsing everywhere.
The world around them blurred and bent,
The stars grew still, the moment spent
In tasting joy so purely spun,
The moon forgot there was a sun.
But love — true love — is never still,
It flows through valleys, climbs each hill.
It doesn’t rest in union’s glow,
It grows where deeper rivers go.
So once the rapture's veil grew thin,
They heard a whisper stir within:
"You are not yet done, nor fully known —
The tree is touched, but not full-grown."
For love, they learned, is not a place,
Not just a dance, nor one embrace.
It is a path, a sacred thirst,
To meet the self — and find it first.
So hand in hand, they took the flame,
No longer asking "who?" or "name."
Beyond the joy, beneath the ache,
They walked to where the old selves break.
And in that quiet, trembling air,
They found a temple — not "out there."
It was the space between each breath,
The birth that hides inside each death.
Part II – The Mirror and the Fire
But love, though boundless, seeks to grow —
Not in light alone, but the undertow.
For what is whole must be made wise,
And what is joined must still baptize.
They walked through meadows veiled in gold,
Their hands like threads no time could hold.
Yet in their hearts, a silence stirred,
Not void — but shadow, undefined word.
For deep within her radiant grace,
She saw a flicker — not his face,
But lifetimes buried, old and raw,
A wound that time had failed to thaw.
She turned to him with tearful eyes:
“Do you not know these ancient cries?
The wars we waged when love was pride,
The vows we broke, the ways we lied?”
He stood like stone in desert night,
A soul once blind, now bearing sight.
“Yes,” he said, “I see them too —
The fire we danced, the blood we drew.”
In one another, they saw the truth:
Not only saints, but fallen youth.
Not only grace, but also grief —
And in that pain, a strange relief.
They wept — not just for what had been,
But for each self they’d never seen.
The faces worn, the names long gone,
The lifetimes lost to dusk and dawn.
And in that grief, a flame arose,
A trial the sacred always knows:
To love not only what is pure,
But every scar one must endure.
The test had come — not from above,
But from the roots of deeper love:
Could they hold what burned and broke,
And love each other through the smoke?
She stayed. He stayed. No word they said.
They only breathed — not fled, not fled.
Their shadows circled, bowed, and passed,
And something deeper bloomed at last.
For in the mirror of their pain,
They saw each other whole again —
Not perfect souls, but weathered true,
With eyes that knew, and still they knew.
Part III – The Parting That Is Not Loss
And then it came — that quiet hour
When winds withdrew from grove and flower,
When time itself forgot to move,
And silence settled like a truth.
They sat beneath the ageless sky,
No tear in eye, no final sigh.
Just breath and presence, still and wide —
As if the world had stepped aside.
The stars, though near, did not intrude;
The moon, in awe, withheld her mood.
Even the river paused its song
To witness love grow pure and strong.
She turned to him with eyes like flame,
Not bound by self, not bound by name.
“I feel a calling,” soft she said,
“A path I walk where none have led.”
He smiled, though heart began to ache —
He knew the vow they both must make.
Not to hold, nor cage, nor cling,
But let love fly on hidden wing.
“For you,” he said, “must go where light
Is born from silence, not from sight.
And I must stay to learn the ground
Where heaven’s roots in dust are found.”
No promise passed, no tether tied,
No script of fate was now their guide.
Only this knowing, fierce and fair —
That love is most when most laid bare.
She rose like dawn from fields of sleep,
He stayed like oak where shadows keep.
And in their parting, strange and vast,
They touched more deeply than the past.
For they had learned what few may find —
That souls are not by nearness kind.
But by the space that they allow,
By trust, not tether; breath, not vow.
And so she left — yet never gone,
A song within him ever drawn.
And he remained — yet ever flew,
A fire within her spirit too.
Part IV – The Reunion Beyond Form
So years turned wheels within the sky,
And centuries passed like breath gone by.
They walked through worlds, through fire and clay,
Each soul alone — yet never stray.
He served in silence, she sang in rain,
They touched the world through joy and pain.
Never once did they forget
The echo of that first sunset.
Till one still dusk, where stars don’t end,
They met — not as lover, not as friend,
But as the light within all things,
The space between the flame and wings.
No body held, no name was said,
No past to weigh, no path to tread.
They were not two, not even one —
They were the breath that births the sun.
She was the curve of rising mist,
He was the hush the stars had kissed.
Together now in all that moves —
In wind and wave, in heart that proves.
They were the silence in the seed,
The ache that makes the poet bleed.
They were the shimmer on the tide,
The soul of all that won't divide.
And in that truth — not seen, but known —
They found the place that was their own.
Not heaven's gate, nor mortal shore,
But love that asks for nothing more.
No need to speak, no need to stay,
They were the song the worlds obey.
And still they are — in light, in rain,
In every joy, in every pain.
For love like theirs does not expire —
It births the stars, it feeds the fire.
Not bound by flesh, nor name, nor role —
But written in the cosmos’ soul.
Epilogue – A Note from the Stillness
In the end, there is no end —
only the hush 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.
No comments:
Post a Comment