From the ***** where a child is fed – the essence of their identity
woven by what a father has said; I carry the faith of my mother,
often shadowed by my father's scepticism. I find myself gazing into
the reflective gaze of a taxi driver, contemplating the tapestry of my
past—insecurities gnawing at my resolve as clasped hands rest in the
back seat. I catch fleeting glimpses of my youthful, innocent laughter
—frozen in time, a testament to pure love captured in a photograph;
a reminder of the paths we trod in pursuit of our dreams.

My creator had named me a rare and radiant pearl, a pearl growing
in the oyster womb of a mother — His love mirrored in that precious
gem as I navigate a crowded life, where strangers step on your toes.

Upon my shoulders, the weight of the world is not meant to rest—
where attempts to quench my thirst yield only the bitterness of ash.
Yet, the fire of my aspirations flickers brightly in my gaze—do I dare
to pursue love with courage?

Indeed, that spark ignites into a flame, and that flame transforms
into an all-consuming love— His love, an all-consuming love.

                                                        ­I am loved.