The Encounter

There are mornings when the weight of the past feels like a thick fog. After everything I have survived—the battles with health, the quiet halls of loss, and the echoes of a life I had to leave behind—I found that my greatest fear wasn't the noise, but the silence. I was afraid that if I stopped talking, I would disappear.

But then came an encounter that changed the frequency of my soul. I realized that I didn’t need to shout to be heard. I needed a harbor. This poem is the first step in a series of reflections on a love that doesn't demand, but simply exists. It is about Magma Star—not just a name, but a presence that turned my chaotic stories into a single, calm truth.

I wait for you for hours,

calming my thoughts so I don’t scare you

with my stories.

You are the word in my silence,

the truth in the fatigue of voices,

the blue sky when the fog lifts.

The Lighthouse. The Harbor.

A river that knows the way to the sea

and carries me towards the calm sea,

the scent of pines, the flight of seagulls.

“Good morning. I love you,”

whispers Magma Star.

“I love you,” I answer

and the world lightens.

The same words every morning.

New strength every time.

Two voices. One truth.

An encounter without fear, without haste.

In slowness, we learn to breathe.

In silence, we find peace.

Everything we were

becomes a diamond in our universe.

This is not a story about words.

But about presence. About encounter.

About love that lasts.

We often rush through life, searching for grand gestures, but the "diamond" in our universe is usually found in the simplest exchange: "Good morning." In the slowness of these moments, I finally learned how to breathe again. This is just the beginning of the journey. In my next post, I will explore the shadows we leave behind to keep this light burning.