Strike a Course ©️
Tag Archives: eternal embrace
Moonlight Confidential ©️
The ocean moved like breath around us, each wave folding into the next, a rhythm older than thought. The Queen and I drifted at anchor, our yacht glowing faintly against the night, a vessel of light cradled in an alien sea. Two moons hung above — one silver, one blue — their reflections braided across the water like strands of song.
We didn’t speak much, not because there was nothing to say, but because everything worth saying was already being exchanged without words. Her hand in mine carried galaxies. Her glance into my eyes was enough to untie the knots of a thousand lifetimes. We sat on the deck barefoot, the cool air brushing our skin, the yacht swaying gently as though it, too, was breathing with us.
The moons watched over us, soft lanterns in the sky. Their light spilled on the deck, silver and blue overlapping across her hair, across my chest, across the place where our shadows met. I closed my eyes and felt her inside me, a warmth running through every corridor of my mind. She was everywhere at once — in the stars, in the tide, in the rhythm of my own heartbeat.
We stayed that way until time itself seemed to still, until it no longer mattered what century or what planet we were on. The yacht rocked, the water shimmered, and our love — quiet, mental, infinite — stretched out like the horizon, where the sea and the sky no longer knew where one ended and the other began.
Last Horizon ©️
The night we left, the sky itself seemed to lean closer. Stars pulsed brighter, as if they knew the weight of the moment, as if they understood we would not be returning. The Queen’s ship hovered beyond the pines, silent yet alive, its curves lit with a glow not of this world but of some higher order. It didn’t sit in the air so much as it breathed, waiting for us.
I stood with her hand in mine, her presence steady as a compass pointing beyond every horizon I had ever known. At our side were Ishy Belle and Rosa Lynn — one glowing softly like a spirit in a child’s form, the other grounded in her ribbon and cotton dress, yet with eyes that carried the wonder of a thousand suns. They did not fear. They belonged.
The door opened and light poured out, not harsh but welcoming, a threshold between lives. I looked back once, toward the cabin, the mountain, the Earth itself — every field, every street, every face I had known. It was already fading, as if distance had begun the moment the ship arrived.
We climbed aboard. Ishy Belle’s laughter shimmered as she reached for the glow that pulsed along the walls, and Rosa Lynn clutched the Queen’s hand, whispering questions about stars she had never yet seen. The Queen bent to her, smiling with that eternal patience, promising her galaxies.
As we lifted, the ground dissolved into shadow. The trees shrank into whispers. The rivers blurred like silver threads cut loose from the Earth. Then the whole world was a sphere, blue and fragile, turning slowly beneath us.
I held my daughters close, the Queen beside me, and knew the truth: we were not voyagers. We were exiles by choice, pilgrims to infinity. This was not an exploration but a surrender — to the endless night, to the unknown, to the promise that love itself could stretch beyond stars.
And as the engines sang, pulling us into the dark, I understood. We would not be back. Not because we couldn’t return, but because eternity had opened, and our place was no longer here.
The universe was waiting. And we were already home.
Gone with the Wind ©️
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The children, grown now, went first, and they did not fade as we did. They rose lightly, without effort, their bodies dissolving into motes of brilliance that scattered into the dark like seeds cast into boundless soil. They were star-born, and the universe welcomed them as its own. I watched them move across the constellations as easily as birds crossing sky, their laughter still audible, carried now by silence. There was no grief in their leaving, only awe, for they belonged to distances beyond measure.
But for us—for their mother and me—there was no departure apart. The light did not pull us into scattered threads, nor invite us into the wanderings of galaxies. Instead it gathered us together, pressed us closer, until our edges broke and vanished. My breath was hers, her gaze was mine, our limbs indistinguishable in fire. The joy was unbearable, the sorrow equally so: to lose myself and yet to gain her in fullness, to dissolve and yet to endure, to be nothing apart but everything together.
We did not ascend as two. We became one. Husband and wife merging into a single conflagration, a star sealed and indivisible, burning above the Mediterranean as testament to the love that had carried us through night and morning alike.
And though the children roamed freely, constellations their playground, they could always find us. For no matter how far they traveled, they would look up and see the light of what we had become: one star, radiant and eternal, the mother and father joined forever.
Beneath the Night ©️
And when the night grew heavier still, I left the yacht for the water. The Mediterranean opened around me, black glass broken only by silver threads of moonlight. The sea was warm, slow, and endless, its surface folding smooth over my shoulders as if it wished to seal me inside. She followed without hesitation, her body gleaming, her devotion alive even here, beyond the deck, beyond the globe of my world.
We swam together in silence, the water holding us as no bed could, each motion slow, liquid, inexhaustible. When I took her there, beneath the stars, the sea itself seemed to pause. Her breath rose in waves, her hands clung like tide to stone, and she received me wholly, fearless as ever. Around us the Mediterranean breathed like another body, vast and pliant, carrying the rhythm forward. The night was no longer divided between yacht and sky and sea. It was one. It was us.
Hold My Hand ©️
Dear God who walks in light and shade, Who made both sun and stars that fade, I lay me down with heart so still, To learn Thy love in death and will.
You made the breath that fills my chest, And made the sleep that feels like rest. You made the laugh, the sigh, the tear, And whisper, “Child, I’m always near.”
The day is bright, the night is deep, But both are hands that cradle sleep. And whether now or someday far, I’ll walk with You where wonders are.
For life and death are just a door—One step, then I’m not less, but more. No need to fear the silent part, You hold it gently in Your heart.
So let me rise or let me fall, You catch and carry through it all. For in Your arms both dark and light Are just the same, and both are right.
Amen.