27/09/2025
๐๐ฎ๐ง ๐จ๐ ๐ญ๐ก๐ ๐๐ฎ๐ง๐๐ฅ๐จ๐ฐ๐๐ซ
When I first came to be, I was blessed with the divine rays you bestowed upon me. I turned to you with reverence and was met with a light that could cure any blight. Against the decay of my leaves, you were everlasting brilliance; for this gift I will remain forever grateful. The wind moves at a pace that caresses my petals, and in that rhythm I feel your presence. Even when you vanish behind mist or mountains, my fondness endures. For you are the body of Heliosโ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐.
How could someone like me, bound to the soil, desire the distant skies? For I am forever rooted, while my petals fade as quickly as they bloom. My roots do not ask why they cling to the ground, nor do my petals question why they ache toward a light that may never return. Because even in darkness there is patience. Waiting is not a choiceโit is simply what my ๐๐๐ ๐ ๐๐๐ commands.
Quietly, I admire you from afarโloyal and undeterred. Even though every nightfall swallows you into the horizon, you still scatter your light across the incandescent sky. Many dawns and dusks will passโuntil one day my final petal will fall. Yet I shall bask in your radiance for as long as I bloom. While the grass grows tall and the leaves fall from trees, I will keep facing you, and only you. For you are the only one I need, and all that I can do is look upward. Such is my fate, to ๐ค๐๐๐ โ๐๐ something worlds apart.
Each dawn is the same lightโslow turning, a quiet surrender, and a face lifted to the ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ as it continues its course, never looking back, yet letting its rays fall all the same. To receive that warmth is both a gift and a wound. I gave you my seasons, though I was nothing more than a fleeting bloom in yours. But still, it never felt like a mistake. It was always my ๐โ๐๐๐๐ to spread my petals wide, to receive every shard of light and bloom.
This ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ก๐๐๐ is both the storm and the stillness that follows. It is the lilies rocked by gentle waves, then left to drift in waters too deep to map. It is the stones skipped into the seaโabandoned and unretrieved. It is the fruits plucked again and again, each season teaching nothing and everything. And yet, it is also the sweetness of clementines in winter, and the fireplace that steadies trembling hands.
How strange that all of these dwell within a single word, one I need not say. Not for its contradictions, but for its meaningโthe way it pulls me quietly, relentlessly, and seemingly without any reason. And so, I grow at night, waiting for the moment the ๐บ๐๐ is seen through my eyes.
My heart bends towards where the light rises. Perhaps the paradox is the point. Not to be solved, but to be lived; to face the heavens even when unseen; to bloom, even when it hurts; to ๐๐๐๐, even when unanswered.
Written by: Sunflower
Layout by: Irises
