If only…
The sea had no storms,
The earth never met cyclones,
And clouds spared the exquisite skies—
But that wouldn’t sound right, would it?
It can’t be that easy, can it?
Who gets a free pass on the swing
Without the perfect token?

I smirk to myself,
Eyes wide open,
Reading the universe’s paintings and essays.

No matter how many times
You’ve walked through darkness,
Or stood in hell’s fire—
It doesn’t spare you.
Even if your skin holds a thousand scars,
Pain finds room
In the space between them.

Because here’s the truth:
It doesn’t really matter—
Even when all you asked for
Was simple access to the path.


“It” is just warming up
For what’s coming next.