Time had lost all meaning. In the cave, illuminated by the faint glow of the moon, we remained silent, as though afraid that even the smallest word could shatter this fragile harmony. The air was thick with mystery, and we pushed further into the cavern, guided by a voice within, an instinct beyond reason. When I injured my leg, husband was there to bandage it, his steady hands an anchor in the unknown.
In the faint yellow glow of our lantern, our eyes fell upon an ancient book clutched in husband’s hands. Its tattered, golden pages bore a language we could barely comprehend, yet the weight of its presence was undeniable. Together, we read aloud the fragments we could decipher, and their meaning seared into our souls:
Let your space be free,
and may the winds of heaven fill it.
For love does not bind you; it liberates.
Let the seas be your soul,
each drop a testament to freedom.
Fill two chalices, though you drink from one.
Do not divide the piece that is made for two.
Live in harmony but walk as one,
like the strings of a guitar echoing a single melody.
Trust in the path God has set before you,
for it will bring you home to your soul.
As we recited these words, the cave trembled, and a hidden door opened before us. Through the lush green thickets of vines and reeds, a sapphire-blue ocean stretched endlessly beyond the white sands of a forgotten shore. We had found it—our sanctuary, our home. Our hands clasped together, our hearts beating in perfect unison.
I woke from the dream, but its resonance stayed with me. It was more than a vision; it was the beginning of a story—a story of love, resilience, and the search for a place to belong. This book is my offering to you, a reflection of that journey, both within and without, from the deserts of despair to the oceans of hope.
CHAPTER 1. SAINT PETERSBURG – THE CITY ON THE NEVA
When colours disperse in the skies far and wide,
And the castle of white sand withstands the tide,
You’ll return to my side—not at end, nor at start—
Where the breeze and the shore wait, eternal at heart.
To write is to feel, to despair, to ignite,
To hope, to believe, to love, and to fight.
In words bound by rhyme, in dreams softly spun,
Is born the great fire that warms every one.
The weak in their body, yet strong in their soul,