Twilight encompasses the quiet world. A soft breeze stirs the trees, the leaves whispering a sigh of memory. A sigh of what’s to come.
A nightingale’s song floats on the evening air. It sings of coming spring, and of the night, and of the promise: night always turns to day.
Don’t fear the dark.
Rain upon the ocean. And yet it is so quiet, a world away. A dream of the veil, and beyond. It’s not lost, not gone. It is merely waiting. And when the wait is over, and the weight is cast off, the whole world will stop and listen.
Someday.
At the edge of someday, on the night’s threshold, a feather touch brings to life those things we’ve forgotten. Joys we abandoned. Wars we fought. Hopes we shared.
A life behind us…
But it need not lie solely in the grasp of the past.
Clouds drift away, and the sky clears. The stars begin to come on, their tiny lights heralding the coming of night. The sky has moved on from the storm, but the scent of rain lingers. Every drop, a tiny longing, one atop the next, composing a song that aches for what was, for what will one day be.
Little lights twinkle in the sky, as twilight turns to night.
And then, the moon comes out. Shining in the afterglow of the sun’s passing, bearing the memory of that fateful crossing. Theirs is a bond a mortal mind can never fully grasp. And in that moment…
The mirror was no longer a mirror. Reflection was cast off for connection, and together they were more than either could be apart. They became one, and the one was something new, a grand mystery, a beautiful wonder, more than either could have imagined.
All it took was a crossing. To come closer than ever before. To see one another in light and shadow of a touch and timbre that exist nowhere else than in that moment in time.
The night shines, its light a touch upon each heart. Feel, it urges, it sings. Coaxing out the song in us. The celestial meeting was not just for the sky. It was, and remains, a promise.
To know, and to be known.