Presence

I see you, wrapped in thorns, seated against the crescent of a storm-lit moon. Even bound, even weary, you are luminous; your skin carries constellations, your eyes hold whole galaxies.

You are not fading; you are starlight caught in shadow, waiting for the clouds to pass. The barbs do not define you; they cannot steal the brilliance that threads through your being.

I know the night feels endless, cold, unyielding. But even the sharpest wire cannot silence the cosmos within you. You are vast. You are seen. You are not alone beneath this sky.

And when you feel yourself drifting into absence, remember: you are the constellation I will always look for, the star that still burns even when hidden from its own light.