Orchids and Impermanence

A Devotional Unfolding

Orchids and Impermanence
A Devotional Unfolding

He brings her white orchids,
petals whispering of purity and ache,
of something untouched,
yet intimately known.
He says they remind him of her—
soft, erotic,
a bloom born of both grace and fire.

There is longing in his presence,
the kind that speaks in half-sentences
and glances that hold too much.
For years they have circled each other
in a silent devotion,
where chemistry lives
but vows remain untouched.

She once searched for answers
in the spaces between their meetings.
She wanted to name it,
to frame it in certainty.
But time,
the gentle sculptor,
taught her the art of surrender.

No longer does she hold love
in clenched hands.
She receives it like breath,
like tide,
ever shifting, ever sacred.

Now, when his eyes linger,
when his arms wrap her in stillness,
she listens to the poetry of presence
without demanding permanence.

He speaks of needing this,
of her beauty
as something that steadies him.
He enters her world with reverence,
touching her not only with skin
but with the honesty of one
who has walked through fire.

In him,
she sees strength and tenderness,
a warrior with calloused hands
and a heart softened by loss.
She honors his path,
the violence he has witnessed,
the peace he now cultivates,
the joy he discovers in their laughter.

There are no promises.
There is only this:
the inhale of shared silence,
the rhythm of entwined breath,
the sacred heat of presence
when the world fades
and only now remains.

She no longer aches for definition.
Love, in its rawest form,
asks for no name.
It arrives,
teaches,
and sometimes
leaves with the morning sun.

But what it awakens—
that lives on.

She is learning to live in the in-between.
To cherish what is
without needing it to stay.
To let herself be moved
by a love that does not belong to her,
yet moves through her
like a prayer.