One day this flame will no longer hang on the wick of this candle, so chill.. but oh the irony, how we’re burning ourselves out.

Or like flowers, we’re meant to open up facing the sun, the light, the empty space.. and though in the darkness we grew, in the sun we completely blew up, each petal reaches its own way, each limb stretches out in the waiting of a hug from the universe itself.

I was a stone thrown, a pebble, but I travel light over the surface of this ocean that we call life, for every touch shall leave a ripple.