In the garden of whispered sighs,
where shadows entwine the bed of moonlight,
a single fruit hangs aloft—unseen,
cradled in the arms of silent yearning.
The skin glistens, a secret untold,
daring touch, daring taste, daring heart.
Fingers tremble, tracing the curve of destiny,
slipping into the hollow spaces of stars.
There lies the essence of every silent wish,
every breath caught between worlds.
Interpretation is the vineyard of truth,
where love's vineyard ripens without eyes.
We are wanderers in this maze of velvet,
soaked in the nectar of unseen skies,
where the fruit speaks in colors unheard,
and the heart's tapestry is woven from silence.
Do you dare to speak its name?