Gentle gravity

There was no rush with them, no grasping. Just a soft, undeniable gravity - as if two currents had finally remembered how to flow toward one another.

Her energy arrived like warmth before touch, a tenderness that listens before it speaks, ancient and intuitive, carrying devotion without demand. She felt with her whole being - through body, breath, spirit - loving in a way that was both gentle and vast, knowing love is something to tend, not take.

His energy was quieter, but no less profound. Grounded. Watchful. The kind that doesn’t announce itself, yet shifts the room simply by being present. He held depth in reserve, like an ocean that doesn’t need to prove how deep it goes. There was protection in his spirit, steady - a knowing that moves slower because it is real.

When their energies met, it wasn’t fireworks. It was recognition. A settling of souls. The way breath finds its natural rhythm again after being held too long.

They didn’t collide - they aligned with one another.

Her openness softened his edges. His steadiness anchored her expansiveness. Where she felt forward, he held space. Where he hesitated, she trusted.

Together, there is a balance without effort.

Their connection isn’t loud. It doesn’t beg to be seen. It exists in pauses, in glances, in what doesn’t need explaining. It is a soul-deep knowing that says: I’ve felt you before. I know how to meet you here. We won’t lose ourselves in one another. We’ll remember ourselves alongside one another.

And that’s how they knew - this wasn’t a passing feeling, but a timeless, ethereal love that found its way back into human form.

— the intimacy after two souls crossing paths for the first time in human form.

© Isabelle Ruby