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no. 03 · from the collection
moonbloom
bloom · not blaze the kind of light that never announces itself. it waits for the dark, opens quietly, and is gone again by morning.
She doesn’t shine, she unfurls, petal by petal in the hush of night. Not made of silver, but lullabies and things that once felt right.
No star could dare eclipse her glow, for she is bloom, not blaze. A tender myth the dark once dreamt to soften all its days.
some light does not arrive. it opens.lavannya daigavane