We built our home not of stone and wood \u2013 but of embraces and shared pauses. The walls \u2013 from the rustle of your eyelashes, the floor \u2013 from the warmth left behind after your steps. In our bedroom, it is always night \u2013 gentle as the velvet of an infinite sky. There is a bed made of clouds, and the pillows whisper dreams of shores where we have already been or are yet to be\u2026<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The living room is like an endless sunset. On the walls are the imprints of our laughter, and through the large windows pours golden light that smells of vanilla and peace. And there is a workshop \u2013 a place where your dreams come alive. Brushes paint without touch, and the colors know what you feel. Each painting is a portal to a new Universe. I sit beside you and watch as worlds are born in your hands.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Beneath our dwelling lies a sea of memories that we have not yet created. Their sound drifts in at night when I whisper into your temple that you are my eternal \u201calways.\u201d The quiet bells of the clouds and the wind of memory lead us to the backyard of our starry domains. Where the Garden grows.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The Garden has no borders \u2013 it unfolds wherever the heart has trembled with hope. Among the silver flowers grows the Tree of Quiet Mornings. Its leaves rustle with our silences, and its fruits are sweet as the first smiles after sleep.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Here are the Bushes of Touches \u2013 their petals open every time you remember how I touched your shoulder on the night when the world stood still. Over there is the Dew of Embraces. Each drop is gathered from dreams of meeting. To drink it is like inhaling the memory of happiness that is already on its way.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Between them sways the Grass of Unfulfilled Songs \u2013 silvery, it whispers melodies that have yet to pour from your lips. But I hear them, because your dreams are my repertoire.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And in the very center grows a Flower that we have not yet named. It trembles like a breath and glows when you are near. It is what we will plant together. Our shared desire, which has no words yet, but already has roots within us.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Here, on the back of the great starry Whale, there is no time. There is only You and I. And the space between us, filled with everything we once called love, and now simply call Home.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
We built our home not of stone and wood \u2013 but of embraces and shared pauses. The walls \u2013 from the rustle of your eyelashes, the floor \u2013 from the warmth left behind after your steps. In our bedroom, it is always night \u2013 gentle as the velvet of an infinite sky. There is a […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[56],"tags":[125,113],"zbirnyk":[],"class_list":["post-4485","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-prose","tag-home","tag-love"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\n