Dancing in heaven amidst angels and apparitions, we engrave a scripture written in the motion of the stars. The leaves and dew, praying silently, create a sacred rhythm while nests rest on branches, witnessing majestic splendors. Every step we take speaks divinity, simple yet vehement, as angelic appearances and devilish intentions blend in a paradox of purity and mischief.
People, too, are like this—poison-sweetened, their hearts both broken and bruised by dreams once dreamed, expectations once held. Feelings are buried, dead emotions carried in the silent spaces between us, bestowed upon us by false relations. Ultimately, we are all left with the bleeding recollections of what could have been, dancing through the heavens with memories that no longer belong to us.