LUCANORE: The Afterglow.

Those eyes deliver an awe that stirs visions of an evermore untold. The breeze drifts in tender slowness, as though time itself had paused in reverence, as though the world had ceased to turn for the stillness it beholds.

This place holds a thousand memories, fragile, eternal, carried only by the heart and captured only by the mind. The walls, ever warm in their welcome, feel like satin brushing against our touch: the floor, a quiet ground where unnumbered blossoms bloom beneath our steps.

There be souls who bring thee unto serenity,
and maketh the world within thine eyes still and sound.

There be souls who taketh thee to realms,
where reveries awaken, and all thy heart desireth.

There be souls who letteth thee drift upon the winds of hope and merry dream,
entwining thee with endless wishes thy love hath ever yearned for.

A book does not sing the lullaby of adagio, yet it carries thee through chapters the mind has longed to find: pages upon pages of quiet whispers only the heart may hear.

Pages where petals bloom,
engrav’d as one with love,
to Revenés, from Perevias,
in our land of dreams,

Lucanore.

Kept alight by the afterglow's lingering grace, s.id/noreglow
s.id/noretitled