--- Whisper to me, ancient fire, the secret carved in stone, a word older than rivers, a breath that makes us whole. Who dreamed of love? Who set the spark in night? Who carved the song on heaven’s door and gave the dark its light? Love is the serpent circling, love is the eagle’s cry, it burns in the bones of strangers, it hums in the blood we hide. Who dreamed of love? Who poured it in our veins? Who wrote the storm in silence, and blessed the holy pain? Love is the endless desert, love is the ocean’s roar, we wander through its temples, and never reach the shore. Who dreamed of love? Who lit the endless flame? Who called us into madness, and left us without name? ---
