It'll be around 5 in the morning. Time when the sun will start its battle to possess the sky and blood will look pink in colour, like the inside of a fragile rose held between your fingers. And everything will be silent. Not a single living thing will make a sound. It will feel like the world abandoned us, that there is only God and us- the chosen ones.
It will always be that way.
I will climb onto the balcony, so that you can see me, but not hear- not my breathing, nor my heartbeat. You will stop feeling me, but will continue to search for me inside your memories. I am your daughter, your sister, your lover. I am you. I'll be playing with an orange-yellow-white-black thread, wrapping it around my fingertips as I continue to look at your beautiful body. Beautiful, because familiar and loved. Your wind-torn lips still whisper something, maybe even my name, it doesn't matter. I'll be your only one, a bird that dares to break the balance of the worlds at this very hour and minute. The Voice will rise, breaking through all the ceilings of this artificial sky. My eternal and only song, a prayer broken into thousands of poems and a million quotes, will burn a straight path that will lead to Him. The flame born from my heart, will be brighter than all starts and planets.
Do you see? Do you see Him now? Now do you believe?
I can't explain this path, but I can show it- through myself.