────୨ৎ────The Architecture of Starlight────୨ৎ──── In the hollow of the ribcage, where the silence likes to bloom, There’s a craftsman carving windows in a small, forgotten room. He works in strokes of heartbeat, in the pulse beneath the skin, To let the light of all the world come rushing, roaring in. We are built of dying starlight, of the dust that refused to stay, The ghosts of ancient oceans that have learned to walk and pray. We carry mountains in our palms and lightning in our veins, The architects of laughter and the keepers of the rains. Do not believe the mirror when it tells you you are small, Or that you are a single brick within a rising wall. You are the breath of forests, you are the cedar and the pine, A wild, unmastered music written in a human line. The world will try to clip the light that dances in your eyes, To trade your golden thunder for the comfort of the lies. But you were born of fire, of the furnace and the spark, A torch that was intended to be lonely in the dark. So stand until the heavens feel the weight of where you are, Until the soil beneath your feet remembers every star. For you are not a moment, or a shadow on the floor— You are the tidal wave of grace that crashes on the shore.
@its_aves hereeee it iss click greenflag
