Pull me back and push the past away from your sight. Let me stay in the fragile-walled mystery that lured me into your world. Let me dwell in the secret place where words diminish and turn into lyrical movements of the heart, beating murmurs of love, stroke on our veins pulsating with rushing joy and hope. I look upon the starry night wondering if there’s still a patch of heaven where we could fly, wings mightily stretching against time and gravity of unspoken words that holds us back, burying our feet cold and stuck on the ground. Nothing could nourish us in this barren land, I tell you. No colors to distinguish happiness from smiling white teeth. No water to quench the thirst of our roots struggling to cut into rocks and murky truths. There’s nothing here but monotonous and chaotic buzz threatening to dampen the sounds of our heartstrings.
So, take hold of my hand. Don’t dare to let go. Let us fly and search for our place in the skies, where your colors strive, stimulating my sense to live. And to love. I will be the breath under your wings and the air in your breathless lungs. And you will be the words that will become my story; like the gentle wind under the soft fabric of a curtain by an open window. We’ll crash in the abyss of the above that if destined to fall would take another eternity for it to end. We would be like ashes hugging the breeze and each other—a thing of beauty that will never fade even through the absolute shadows of nothingness.