Liora-Elber H. Rivory's Blog: Whispers to the Soul

There is an art to this,
to the electric trembling of borders,
where my edges touch yours
and neither of us breaks.

It begins in silence—
a gesture, a glance,
the way your breath
folds into mine
like two waves
meeting in the belly of the sea.

You are a mirror
but not my reflection,
a voice humming notes
I’ve never dared to learn.
I press my ear
to the syllables of your body,
listening for the stories
that crack like sunlight
through your ribs.

There is a pleasure in not knowing—
how your laughter
bends the air into spirals,
how your hands
weave through spaces
I’ve left hollow for years.
Your difference sings to me,
an unexpected melody
unfolding in strange harmonies,
an unfamiliar sky
spilling colors I can’t name.

We meet like rivers,
not to consume,
not to claim,
but to change.
You bring the salt of another shore,
I bring the weight of my own silt,
and together,
we carve something vast.

There is an art to this—
to letting go of the maps,
the lines,
the certainties.
To letting myself be a canvas,
stretched and raw,
ready for the touch
of your unknown brush.