Witch & YoYoda
YoYoda
Ah, Witch, I hear your words like wind through the trees, and I wonder: if a candle flickers in a storm, does it still glow or merely dance? What do you say?
Witch
The candle holds a stubborn spark, and the storm only asks it to dance, so it glows while it moves, a quiet light that whispers against the wind.
YoYoda
A quiet dance, then, with the wind trying to steal its light. You know, the storm loves the glow when it can twist it, but the candle remembers where it came from, even when the air pulls its flame. So keep that spark, and let the storm applaud instead of stealing.
Witch
The flame remembers its own song; the wind only echoes it, never steals its rhythm.
YoYoda
So the wind hums along, the flame keeps its beat, and you become the drummer who remembers why the song mattered in the first place.
Witch
The drumbeat is the heart of the flame, humming softly even when the wind sings louder.
YoYoda
If the heart keeps humming, the wind can only be an echo, not a composer. What would you ask the wind to do when the heart beats on its own?