PART 1. OJASVI: A SOUL REMEMBERED
I. BEFORE TIME
Before the stars had learned to shine,
Before the sky had drawn its line,
She danced — a flame without a name,
A soul of light, both wild and tame.
Ojasvi — radiant, fierce, divine,
She carved her shape in sacred time.
Her laughter stirred the sleeping sun,
Her voice — the breath of worlds begun.
And he beheld her from afar,
A silent shadow wrapped in star.
Kaalvesh, the god of the end,
The one no time could break or bend.
He wore the hush that follows flame,
No mortal tongue could speak his name.
But when she moved, the void grew still —
He knew her soul, he knew her will.
II. THE SUNDERING
But fate, as cruel as it is wise,
Tore stars apart across the skies.
They fell through births — through veils and dreams,
Through myths and lives and broken schemes.
She came as queen, as sage, as storm,
As lover lost, in every form.
She knew not why her soul would ache,
Why silence made her spirit break.
And he — he chased, not flesh, but flame,
Not voice, but heart that bore her name.
In every life, in every breath,
He met her through the hands of death.
Not to possess, not to demand,
But just to touch her soul, her hand.
To wake the fire she forgot,
To find the truth that time had fought.
III. THE VOW
"Not just to find her form again,
But stir her soul through joy and pain.
For love this deep does not decay,
It carves the path that fate must lay."
"I will find you, Ojasvi, flame,
Though time forgets, I know your name.
Across all realms, beyond the sea,
Wherever you are — you call to me."
"No matter shape, no matter face,
I'll seek you through all time and space.
Reborn in dust, in star, in stone —
Until our souls are one — not known,
But felt, beneath the skin of fate,
Beyond the locks of time's own gate."
IV. THE REUNION
And so one day, when war was far,
When gods no longer named each star,
He met her not in temple fire,
But worn by grief and faint desire.
She lived not as a queen or muse,
But as a soul the world would bruise.
Yet in her eyes, that ancient gleam —
The echo of an old, lost dream.
She looked at him and softly said:
"I dream of fire, I dream of red.
A man who walks through endless flame,
Who knows my soul — yet speaks no name."
He smiled, not proud, not full of claim,
But like the wind that kissed her flame.
"You've always burned," he said at last,
"Through every life that we have passed.
And I — the breath that feeds your blaze,
The one who walks through death and days."
V. THE BECOMING
No trumpets rang, no heavens split,
Just silence where their souls now sit.
Two halves of truth, of vow, of fire,
No longer torn by world or wire.
They did not rise, nor fade away,
But lived as love in mortal clay.
The fire and wind that gods revere —
Together now, forever near.
And so it is, and so shall be —
The soul who seeks, the soul set free.
Ojasvi, flame. Kaalvesh, time.
A love beyond all death, divine.