The collection
Sometimes I think we have met already in another arrangement of sorrow, where the stars made no accusations and time did not feed on itself. Here I answer only in silence. What else is left when love arrives as an apparition and asks to be believed? Your voice reaches me from the side of existence…
In your name, I have traveled the deserts of longing, the mountains of joy, and the valleys of despair. And yet, I would walk them all again just to feel the brush of your hand in mine.
It’s not the grand gestures I seek, but the simple closeness, the brush of lips that says more than words, a stolen moment that belongs only to us.
I rise, not just to the day, but to the thought of you, carried in the morning breeze, in the song of the birds, in the fresh promise of the hours yet to unfold.
Shall I call myself a fool, for letting my heart lead where reason would not go, for wandering in a dream of you, where every step takes me deeper, into the gentle madness of love?
To exist is to be part of this grand design, to feel the heartbeat of the universe, to marvel at the wonders that surround us, to cherish each moment in this cosmic dance.
In the vast night, Constellations try to mirror The depths of your eyes But fall short, An echo in the void, Unable to capture your grace