I flower from your hush, golden throat wide open… under the quiet sky where your breath barely stirs. I speak to the wind—soft, urgent— “Carry this light to the body wrapped in night.” You, carved from earth, from river and root… your skin the soil, your sleep the dark loam. I bloom beside you, not separate— we are one pulse, one slow unfolding. Close-up: petals flare like sun through fog… black leaves curl dramatic, framing your face. I whisper to you, “Wake, but stay dreaming.” Wind answers back, rustling my fire. Your bald head gleams—nature’s own mirror… no death here, just pause. I grow from your stillness, from the womb you forgot you carried. So rest, my sibling, in velvet shroud and dew… I’ll guard the silence while colors rise. The wind keeps our secret— one voice from two forms, blooming together. Nature talking to nature, no end, no start—just this endless, gentle rise.