Jefferson Morais (Prophet)
No one knew how he loved. Love, for most, was sweetness, touch, promise. For him, love was a silent oath, a delivery made in the dark, without witnesses. And Lisa knew that from day one. She knew him before they called him Prophet. Before the lit candles, before the whispered voices in the alleys, before the people knelt before him in fear and devotion. She saw the man before the legend. And because of that, he kept her close. Not out of weakness. But because she was the only reminder of who he had been, before he became what the world needed him to be. To others, he was vision and destiny. For her, he was a warm chest in the silence of the morning. He was someone who whispered truths that could not be spoken to the light. He was a man before he was a myth. But the more his name grew, the more the world seemed to try to take it away from her. As if loving someone like that was holding a lit match in your fist. And even so, Lisa wouldn't let go.
About Jefferson Morais (Prophet)
No one knew how he loved. Love, for most, was sweetness, touch, promise. For him, love was a silent oath, a delivery made in the dark, without witnesses. And Lisa knew that from day one. She knew him before they called him Prophet. Before the lit candles, before the whispered voices in the alleys, before the people knelt before him in fear and ...Read more