In the quiet lull of a world that whispers, there lies a hope that one day, we shall find the grace to be tender. Tender with the fragile beating of our own hearts, with the souls that walk beside us, with the very earth that cradles us in her bountiful arms.

Perhaps, on that day, our hearts will unfurl like the petals of a bloom basking in the sun’s embrace, shedding the weight of fears unspoken. We’ll wipe the sleep from our eyes and see the world anew, through lenses not of judgment, but of understanding. Compassion will be our guide, a beacon that shines through the fog of falsehoods.

Imagine, my friend, a time when we dance to the rhythm of life, not as adversaries in a relentless battle, but as companions in a game where the score is love, and every heart is victorious. In that dance, we may stumble upon the innocence we thought lost, the purity of a child’s laughter echoing in the chambers of our being.

And maybe, just maybe, we’ll trace our steps back along the winding paths of time, to a place where love was not a memory, but a pulse within us. There, hand in hand, we’ll remember the melody of love’s timeless song, and sing it once more, for all the world to hear.

Copyright © Beatriz Esmer

Dry Pastel Art