Definitions by From Saint Agnes to Egypt
821
I will hold you
as you have never been held before.
I will kiss you
as you have never been kissed.
I will carry you
into the depths of my heart and breath,
so you can feel the depth of my being,
see yourself,
see love.
In a flow of light,
in endless joy,
I will bring you back
to your home—
and to mine.
as you have never been held before.
I will kiss you
as you have never been kissed.
I will carry you
into the depths of my heart and breath,
so you can feel the depth of my being,
see yourself,
see love.
In a flow of light,
in endless joy,
I will bring you back
to your home—
and to mine.
821… Home in You
821 by From Saint Agnes to Egypt February 8, 2026
1002
Do you know why I write to you —
so openly, so fearlessly,
even if it makes me look foolish?
It wasn’t to overwhelm you.
I just wanted to say it
so that if you’re going through some of these wild, overwhelming experiences too,
you wouldn’t feel alone.
That’s all.
Why did you close some of the windows?
I loved all of them —
the ones that used to be open and you closed long ago,
and the ones you’ve closed only recently.
I closed mine too, just like you.
Now there’s only one left open.
And this one…
it will never close.
I don’t even know why I closed the others.
It wasn’t pride or stubbornness.
I just wanted to do what you did,
in the only way I knew how.
So yes… my heart always wants what yours wants.
so openly, so fearlessly,
even if it makes me look foolish?
It wasn’t to overwhelm you.
I just wanted to say it
so that if you’re going through some of these wild, overwhelming experiences too,
you wouldn’t feel alone.
That’s all.
Why did you close some of the windows?
I loved all of them —
the ones that used to be open and you closed long ago,
and the ones you’ve closed only recently.
I closed mine too, just like you.
Now there’s only one left open.
And this one…
it will never close.
I don’t even know why I closed the others.
It wasn’t pride or stubbornness.
I just wanted to do what you did,
in the only way I knew how.
So yes… my heart always wants what yours wants.
1002 by From Saint Agnes to Egypt February 4, 2026
1106
Belief?
There’s no need for belief
the day the puzzle pieces fell into place
I knew I had been born, lived, and loved countless times
it doesn’t matter where, each time you were my home
it doesn’t matter in which family, you were my everything
it doesn’t matter how many times I fell in love, or with whom
I always knew you were my everlasting
To love you has been My soul’s fate
and now I only seek to embrace it
There’s no need for belief
the day the puzzle pieces fell into place
I knew I had been born, lived, and loved countless times
it doesn’t matter where, each time you were my home
it doesn’t matter in which family, you were my everything
it doesn’t matter how many times I fell in love, or with whom
I always knew you were my everlasting
To love you has been My soul’s fate
and now I only seek to embrace it
1106 by From Saint Agnes to Egypt February 1, 2026
851
Come, my dearest,
entire and complete.
Leave no part behind.
Let my being unfold as a vast expanse
for your presence,
for your unveiling.
Come with the most hidden corners of your being,
the parts that whisper yet remain unseen.
I desire you—
all of you,
entire,
unbroken,
without reduction,
without veil.
entire and complete.
Leave no part behind.
Let my being unfold as a vast expanse
for your presence,
for your unveiling.
Come with the most hidden corners of your being,
the parts that whisper yet remain unseen.
I desire you—
all of you,
entire,
unbroken,
without reduction,
without veil.
851 I desire you entirely.
851 by From Saint Agnes to Egypt February 1, 2026
135
Do your eyes hold a hundred vineyards?
Red, glistening with tears, your face alight with fire.
I once thought:
A “hundred-year wine” is named so for its age,
but perhaps it is the wine whose intoxication lingers in the soul for a hundred years—
or even as lifetimes drift by, it never leaves the spirit.
How hauntingly familiar that gaze was to my soul.
Do you remember the times you poured it into me?
On the 1st, the 3rd, the 5th…
Even now, after more than ten years,
I have yet to free myself from its spell.
And simply recalling it sends me reeling,
Red, glistening with tears, your face alight with fire.
I once thought:
A “hundred-year wine” is named so for its age,
but perhaps it is the wine whose intoxication lingers in the soul for a hundred years—
or even as lifetimes drift by, it never leaves the spirit.
How hauntingly familiar that gaze was to my soul.
Do you remember the times you poured it into me?
On the 1st, the 3rd, the 5th…
Even now, after more than ten years,
I have yet to free myself from its spell.
And simply recalling it sends me reeling,
135 by From Saint Agnes to Egypt February 1, 2026
253
At midnight
And your voice—
A strange shiver, as if you have already been read.
253 at dawn.
Words arrive and hide themselves
In the memory of space,
Leaving only their energy:
The pulse of longing and desire,
The hum of yearning and wish,
The flicker of plea and craving.
Then comes a touch—
A brush of longing and tenderness,
As if from another world.
An eternal embrace, always open,
And a God descending to Earth
Just to make love.
Perhaps what goddesses and gods themselves feel.
Each cell in me inhales your presence,
And a limitless pleasure
Rises at the edge of suffering.
I remember your call,
As if whispering:
“Look at the clock, and tell me,
2:53.”
We both know what it holds.
In the darkness, I trace the numbers on the sheets,
Knowing you will receive them in white light.
And your voice—
A strange shiver, as if you have already been read.
253 at dawn.
Words arrive and hide themselves
In the memory of space,
Leaving only their energy:
The pulse of longing and desire,
The hum of yearning and wish,
The flicker of plea and craving.
Then comes a touch—
A brush of longing and tenderness,
As if from another world.
An eternal embrace, always open,
And a God descending to Earth
Just to make love.
Perhaps what goddesses and gods themselves feel.
Each cell in me inhales your presence,
And a limitless pleasure
Rises at the edge of suffering.
I remember your call,
As if whispering:
“Look at the clock, and tell me,
2:53.”
We both know what it holds.
In the darkness, I trace the numbers on the sheets,
Knowing you will receive them in white light.
253 by From Saint Agnes to Egypt February 1, 2026
820
always carries a story—
a story meant to remind you
that you are on the journey of 1111.
My dear, were you born in the Year of the Tiger?
Why did you appear in my dream as a tiger—
a white tiger,
beautiful, majestic, rare.
Wherever I went, you followed.
Suddenly I woke up.
In my heart, I felt it was you,
but I didn’t believe it.
I told myself:
the feline family represents femininity,
and I fell asleep again.
The dream continued.
I was in the tiger’s cave,
in its embrace—
gentle, playful, and magnanimous in presence.
A constellation of signs telling me it was you.
The white fur was not purely white;
it carried a temperature of pale blue,
reminding me of
18
Never once did its claws emerge
from between those beautiful paws.
Look at your hands—
I always do,
especially when you write.
And so many more signs...
my heart wants that dream
in waking life,
in your face.
I am alive
for that day.
a story meant to remind you
that you are on the journey of 1111.
My dear, were you born in the Year of the Tiger?
Why did you appear in my dream as a tiger—
a white tiger,
beautiful, majestic, rare.
Wherever I went, you followed.
Suddenly I woke up.
In my heart, I felt it was you,
but I didn’t believe it.
I told myself:
the feline family represents femininity,
and I fell asleep again.
The dream continued.
I was in the tiger’s cave,
in its embrace—
gentle, playful, and magnanimous in presence.
A constellation of signs telling me it was you.
The white fur was not purely white;
it carried a temperature of pale blue,
reminding me of
18
Never once did its claws emerge
from between those beautiful paws.
Look at your hands—
I always do,
especially when you write.
And so many more signs...
my heart wants that dream
in waking life,
in your face.
I am alive
for that day.
820 by From Saint Agnes to Egypt February 1, 2026