The Song of Endless Roads I. The Beginning The morning stirs with golden breath, A hush before the day is born. The earth awakens, soft and slow, Its heart still trembling from the dawn. I step into the waiting silence, Shoes damp with dew, lungs filled with sky. The road before me bends and whispers, “Walk on, child, don’t ask why.” For every path has secrets hidden, Carved in stone and sung by streams, And those who dare to keep on walking Find their footsteps leading into dreams. II. Voices of the Earth The fields are choirs of quiet wonder, Grass blades hum in emerald rows. The trees hold council in their stillness, Guardians of what the spirit knows. Birdsong bursts like sudden laughter, Rising clear where shadows fade. Each feathered voice a note of freedom, Each trill a hymn creation made. The wind becomes my patient teacher, Tracing stories along my skin. It speaks of journeys without ending, Of worlds that live both out and in. III. The Weight ...
I. The First Spark
I remember the moment before you,
the silence that carried no music,
the nights that were full of stars
yet empty of meaning.
My heart was a vessel, waiting,
a cathedral with unlit candles,
an ocean that had never known the tides.
Then you appeared—
not like thunder,
not like lightning,
but like a soft dawn spilling over mountains,
a slow unfurling of light
that revealed everything I had forgotten to see.
Your name entered me like breath,
your smile unraveled the knots of years,
and my chest, once heavy with waiting,
suddenly opened like a door
long rusted shut.
---
II. The Language of Eyes
Before we spoke,
we conversed in glances.
Eyes like constellations,
pulling me into their gravity.
Every time our gazes met,
something ancient was remembered:
as if souls, scattered in lifetimes past,
were greeting each other again,
shaking off centuries of dust.
In those eyes I saw oceans,
entire worlds not yet traveled.
I saw both a question and its answer,
both a home and an adventure.
---
III. The Touch
The first time our hands brushed—
a spark leapt,
a tiny star born between skin and skin.
It was not just touch;
it was recognition.
Like two rivers meeting at last,
like pages of the same story
finally aligned.
My heart did not just beat—
it composed symphonies,
a thousand violins rising in unison.
I knew then
that my body remembered yours,
that love was not invention,
but remembrance.
---
IV. The World Builds Around Us
When love deepens,
the world rearranges itself.
Streets I had walked a thousand times
suddenly became enchanted—
lamps glowed warmer,
shadows softened,
the air itself seemed to carry music.
With you,
coffee was no longer just coffee—
it was laughter spilling into cups.
Walking became more than footsteps—
it was journeys woven with secret smiles.
Time itself bent,
an hour stretching into eternity,
a day disappearing in a blink.
---
V. Storms and Anchors
Love is not only sunrise.
It is also stormclouds.
We fought—
sometimes over little things:
words misplaced,
moods misunderstood.
But even in anger,
I felt the tether—
a cord unbreakable,
a promise beneath the noise.
You were my anchor,
and I yours.
Even when the waves grew monstrous,
the ship of us did not capsize.
We learned that storms do not break love—
they deepen it,
teach it resilience,
teach us how to rebuild.
---
VI. The Depths of Intimacy
In your embrace I discovered
that home is not wood and brick,
not walls or windows—
home is heartbeat against heartbeat,
breath against breath.
In quiet nights,
we traced galaxies on each other’s skin,
finding entire universes in freckles and scars.
Every whisper was a scripture,
every kiss a new gospel.
Your laughter became the hymn
I prayed with,
your tears the holy water
I promised to guard.
---
VII. Distance
There were times we were apart,
miles stretched between us
like deserts,
days dragging like heavy chains.
But even then,
love did not weaken.
It adapted,
moved through wires and screens,
rode on letters and late-night calls.
I would fall asleep
listening to your voice
through tiny speakers,
yet it felt as if you were beside me,
breathing in rhythm with mine.
And when we reunited,
distance collapsed into nothing,
like a bad dream chased away by morning.
---
VIII. Building a Life
We built not castles,
but moments—
the kind that outlast stone and steel.
Cooking together,
burning the first pancake,
laughing until tears.
Holding each other
in the mess of moving boxes,
seeing possibility in every corner.
Celebrating victories,
comforting in defeats.
Every day a thread,
woven into the tapestry of us.
Not grand gestures alone,
but tiny rituals:
morning coffee,
goodnight kisses,
inside jokes
that no outsider would ever decode.
---
IX. Aging Together
I imagine us
with hair silvered,
hands wrinkled but still entwined.
The fire dimming in the world
but not in us.
We will sit on porches,
watching sunsets without counting them.
Our love will not fade—
it will ripen,
like wine,
like wisdom,
like stories told over and over
but never losing their magic.
And when the time comes,
when one must walk ahead,
the other will carry the flame—
because love does not die,
it only changes form,
only waits in another dawn.
---
X. Eternal
If there are other lives,
other worlds,
I pray to find you in each of them.
To fall in love with you again,
to repeat the miracle.
Because once is not enough.
Once cannot hold
the immensity of what I feel.
So I love you in echoes,
in layers,
in eternities.
You are not just the chapter—
you are the book.
Not just the melody—
you are the symphony.
Not just the present—
you are the forever.
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