8h
I stare into the ocean, my life reflected back, a mirror that reveals the path more clearly.
I carry my thread of existence, woven solely in the flame that holds my warmth.
I whisper to the waves— bring me life, bring me a thread of it.
I carry my thread of existence, woven solely in the flame that holds my warmth.
I whisper to the waves— bring me life, bring me a thread of it.
We exist. But is existence the same as life? We move, we breathe, but do we carry life, or is it merely a show of it? A thread of life—why seek it, if we already live? But perhaps living is more than surviving.
