She moves as if she knows the secret of the world's breathing.
There is a softness in her steps that awakens the ground,
and a scent of eternity that spreads when she thinks.
The universe seems to listen to her—
as if her every thought were a divine whisper.
Her feeling is the dew that kisses the petals of the moment,
a flame that dances, unhurriedly, on the altar of presence.
When she acts, the gesture does not harm the silence:
it passes through it gently,
as the wind passes through the body of an open flower.
She understands that where wisdom reigns,
body and soul understand each other effortlessly.
Thought does not command—it floats.
The heart does not impose itself—it invites.
Action does not react—it flourishes.
There is an ancient science in her,
woven between breath and desire,
where each pulse is an offering
to the mystery that vibrates beneath the skin.
Her wisdom is erotic and pure,
like the instant when love breathes within the gaze.
She is thought in the form of a breast,
feeling in the form of a mouth,
action in the form of a womb.
Everything about her is integration,
everything about her is sacred.
When she loves, time bends.
The gesture becomes a path,
the word, a blessing,
silence, rest.
And whoever touches her consciously
discovers the path that connects heaven to blood.
She teaches that living is allowing oneself.
To think is to kiss the invisible,
to feel is to undress before the eternal,
to act is to dance with what breathes within everything.
Wisdom dwells in her serene womb—
where feeling joins thought
and action is born like ripe fruit.
No conflict survives the touch of one who understands.
There is only the breath,
the body,
the light.
And when she falls asleep among her own thoughts,
the Earth retreats in peace,
as if she had rediscovered
the forgotten rhythm of primordial love.
