The Silent Pact of Twin Drops

On opaque glass, worlds in miniature,
two drops of water, slow and pure mirrors,
each one a sky, a brief adventure
of cold light and tiny futures.
They wait, trembling, without haste,
for the unknown breath that will push them.

Then, the inclination, the unstoppable wave,
a subtle tremor, a sweet calling.
They brush lightly, almost ineffable
a silent consent, a brief arcane kiss.
And one merges into the other fluidly,
abandoning form, a single breath.

No longer divided, but a luminous and deep trail,
an ephemeral river that the crystal traces.
A mute pact establishes their history,
a new journey on that same face.
They carry the double sky, a single fall,
the end and the beginning in a silent soul.