Elysium

In dusk’s soft hush, a quiet stirs,
a warmth that neither sun nor star confers

he moves like twilight’s gentle call,

unfolding shadows where dreams fall.

I see eternity in each quiet flame,
a warmth unspoken, without name,
and in that gaze, so deep, so vast,
I catch a glimpse of futures past.

His smile, a hymn, so soft, so pure,
that every sorrow fades, unsure,
it blossoms wide, like fields in spring,
and fills the air with whispered wings

Compassion flows in gentle streams,
through every word, like tender dreams;
his spirit moves as rivers bend,
to soothe, 

to heal, and 

to defend.

And when he speaks, my soul takes flight,

as if the world were bathed in light
a moment held, yet undefined,
a tethered heart, a liberated mind.

If ever heaven graced this land,
it lives in the warmth of his gentle hand,
a touch that binds yet sets me free,
a silent vow,

eternally…

Rasa: Shringara (Love)