✨A journey through time. ✨
She speaks to the trees about you—
softly, as if the leaves still carry your name
from the last life, and the one before that.
They remember the way you held her
in the old world—
when your hands were calloused
from sword or soil,
and hers were stained with berries
and blood and prayer.
You both have played so many parts.
You were the soldier,
She was the healer.
You were the merchant,
She was the thief of her own body.
You were the fire,
and once, she was the water that couldn’t save you.
Sometimes she broke you.
Sometimes you left her in the middle of a burning village with a child on her hip and a curse on her tongue.
She sees it now—it was just the dance.
The spiral.
The unraveling toward light.
She tells the trees she forgives you,
and they sigh with relief
as if they’ve been holding their breath for centuries.
She tells them you tried.
In this life, you tried.
And that is more than enough for now.
If you two meet again—
in another skin, another war, another garden—
She will look for you
She’ll find you in the eyes of strangers.
That gleam of ancient recognition …
She’ll say, “We made it through.”
And the trees, old and listening,
will hum a hymn only you both remember.