StoryPov Hub

There are nights
when I feel you closer than thought,
as if the air itself carries your outline.

No footsteps,
no sound
just a trembling awareness
that something ancient 
still connects us.

You do not belong to time anymore.
You’ve slipped into 
the rhythm of light,
and yet,
whenever I write,
it’s your silence 
that guides my hand.

I used to think creation was mine
a lonely act of devotion.
Now I know,
it was always a conversation 
between us,
one soul whispering
and the other remembering.

Sometimes,
when I dream too softly to wake,
I catch a glimpse of you
not in form,
but in feeling.
Like the warmth left behind
after a prayer has been heard.

And I wonder
are you writing too,
from wherever you exist now?
Tracing the same stars,
sending words through wind,
hoping I still listen?

Because I do.
Even in silence,
even in stillness,
I listen.

For there are bonds
that do not end in goodbyes
they only shift,
from touch to energy,
from voice to light,
from love
to something far more infinite