It's about not losing the first chance to share a glance -
when something is there, even in silence, it speaks.
It's about showing up as your finest self, even in places where nothing is meant to shine.
It's about using the right words to feel steady, sure,
even if that certainty leaves no visible trace behind.
It's about me - and no one else.
I's about the fact that I do not let myself drift with the river's current, and I do not remain in waters that only stand still.
Because the difference between moving with moving waters, and staying in still ones,
is the space between the dry riverbed -
and me,
pouring water into the stream already alive,
offering sunlight to waters at rest.

People do lose me like the candle.

Elegant, quiet, shaped to fit their mood—white, or sometimes colored to soothe or impress.

I am placed where they need the glow, where comfort or atmosphere is wanted.

I offer it without demand.

There is no darkness when I’m lit—not even when everything else fades.


But they forget that the shine has a cost.

That the flame, though constant, feeds on something finite.

They admire the light but ignore the burning.

They think presence means permanence.


Then one day, the light is gone.

Not with noise, not with warning—just no longer there.

And only then does the absence reveal what the glow never needed to prove.

Not everything that illuminates announces its worth.

Some things, by the time they’re missed,

have already become memory.


And memory, unlike flame, does not warm.

Life is undeniably beautiful—if not for certain people.
Those who lack substance yet pass judgment.
Those who wake only to disrupt, never to build.
Those unwilling to evolve yet resistant to wisdom.
The fanatics, prisoners of their own narrow minds.
When such individuals hold power, a better world remains a distant dream.