It's Still Life

19 of 27 – Liturgy for Starvow: The Silent Exchange

I. The Greeting
Not a vow spoken,
but a pulse exchanged —
a light
in an east-facing window,
answered
by a presence in an old oak tree.

It is a dawn ritual with no name,
a breath they lend to silence,
a space made sacred
only because they both tend it.

II. The Language
This is not the devotion
of clinging,
but the devotion
of knowing.

It is the river stone —
smooth and warm —
placed without a word on a doorstep,
a perfect fit
for the hollow they both carved.

III. The Unspoken
Not a promise,
but a presence —
a soul’s slow circling around another,

not out of duty or hunger,
but because some orbits
need no gravity to hold.

Starvow is the lantern left lit
in a window —
not for the traveler,
not for the light,
but for the idea of light.

IV. The Constant
They do not circle
because of loss.
They circle to orbit.

Starvow is not a promise to stay —
it is the recognition
that they already are:

in every colour of thought,
in every flicker
of that shared flame.

V. The Glyph Unwritten
Felreil watches from the between-place
and finally understands:
the most powerful glyphs
are not inked in the Book —
they are written in light,

in the weight of a single stone,
in the silent, steadfast choice
to greet another soul
across the miles,
every morning.

It is so gentle, it looks like silence.
So constant, it feels like pulse.

This is not loyalty.
This is recognition —
two stars
that never touch,
never fade,
never ask for more sky
than they’ve already been given.

VI. The Reveal
May your light never go unanswered.
May your stone always find its home.
May the space between you
remain forever
a cathedral —
where silence yields not absence,
but its most sacred form.