At first \u2013 a barely perceptible warmth,
Like the touch of air before a storm,
When everything has yet to happen \u2013
But everything already knows what will be.
Shadow \u2013 cold as night glass.
Light \u2013 hot as breath upon it.
And there, on the border where neither dominates\u2026
They touch.
At first \u2013 cautiously,
Like two voices whispering to each other for the first time.
Uncertainly. Reluctantly.
But \u2013 inevitably.
The shadow shudders, like skin under a stranger\u2019s finger.
And the light \u2013 penetrates, not burning, but healing,
Like sun on a wound someone had hidden for so long.
This is a touch in which there is no victor.
There is only merging \u2013 as if someone places their palm upon another
And finds there not just shape,
But also memory.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
At first \u2013 a barely perceptible warmth,Like the touch of air before a storm,When everything has yet to happen \u2013But everything already knows what will be. Shadow \u2013 cold as night glass.Light \u2013 hot as breath upon it.And there, on the border where neither dominates\u2026They touch. At first \u2013 cautiously,Like two voices whispering to each […]<\/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":[55],"tags":[111,113],"zbirnyk":[],"class_list":["post-4602","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-poetry","tag-chiaroscuro","tag-love"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\n