A drop in the ocean, twists and pulls, swirls and dives, pushed out, pulled in, gasping, forever dancing in the whim of the waters, seemingly caressing every side.

A feather in the wind, reaching ever higher, burned by the sun, coaxed by the breeze, afraid to fall, yet destined to be unsure of whether the safety in the landing will outweigh the uncertainty of the invisible hold.

A light in the dark, flickering in fear, waves disrupted, combustion having reached its glorious end, glowing ever less with each minute collision.

Fear not, the ocean, the wind, the dark. Become so comfortable being the ocean that when the drop falls, you hold it in your heart. Become so adept at being the wind that the feather feels like a lost friend, gentle and sweet, and in need of a stable hold. Become the dark. Know that the light is not where goodness lies, but rather where the secrets die.



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