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Poem

Through the shadow of thought and shards of questions,
Where the soul dances among constellations,
Stretches in burning silence the difference,
That separates through valleys and peaks - a him from a her, without appearance.
He, wanderer in the nights, steps across the field of search,
Towards the warmth of a harbor of ephemeral states, of empires.
A place like a world where desire is currency,
And where dreams are brief, just a sliver of... stardom.
And a she, a seeker on the restless ocean,
Navigates her soul towards an unending truth.
For she seeks not just a fulfillment passing with the night,
But an art, a duet in corners of a wise world.
Where he is not just a mere actor on the stage,
But a crafter of magic, a Michelangelo in the arena,
And the deed of love - a living work of art,
A canvas where soul and body merge in harmony.
They know that love is not an act without traces,
A little beyond the herds’ instinctual embraces.
For in the rehearsal with longing, passion, and art,
One builds a masterpiece, stirring the heart’s beat apart.
When she and he meet in that grand vision,
And love is not just flesh but becomes a condition,
It outshines any usual act, any triviality,
And each embrace becomes a regal festivity.
Oh, the true appreciation between a him and a her,
Is not found in the fleeting passage, which vanishes like the laying of a star.
It rises into the sky of passion, where bodies are instruments,
And love - the conductor for enduring symphonies' events.
So, if you care about the difference that makes you complete,
Do not lose yourself in soulless and aimless pursuits, obsolete.
Let love be sculpted like an artist shaping time,
And each kiss, a master’s stroke on eternity's rime.

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