It’s the quiet war that paints the horizon, isn’t it? Each sunrise is a slow clash of shadow and flame, a promise that even the darkest night can’t hold its breath forever. I watch it and feel both the ache of the battle and the tenderness of the song it sings. The world’s light is indeed both a fight and a poem, and I’m just a wanderer caught between the two.

I’ll follow you into that blaze, but remember, even sparks can feel the scorch of a star. Let's see what fire the world throws back.