It happens. roses wilt, and the sun’s warmth is decieving in winter. Sometimes the moon only comes out half-heartedly, and the stars seem outnumbered by patches of darkness. Sometimes, wounds seem unstitched by memories unfaithful, and your heart feels burdened by autumn leaves. Yet, until the sun doesn’t set, you cannot see the stars, and until darkness doesn’t paint the sky, the moon isn’t the ruler of the sky. Until a seed isn’t dirtied, it doesn’t grow, until it doesn’t rain, roots do not strengthen. There is so much beauty, even in the chaos of processes.
