The Volcano
Even if they don't see it, I do and it's beauty beyond words.
I love you as the earth loves its fire, in silence, in secret, where molten rivers dream beneath stone. You rise like a mountain crowned in storms, your silhouette carved by centuries of struggle, and I— I am the pilgrim who kneels at your edge, listening to the hymn of your hidden heart. Your body is a map of survival, curves like rivers of flame frozen mid-flow, scars shimmering like constellations that only I have lear...
