When someone’s star begins to shine, It isn’t darkness — the outline just grows clearer. The light simply happens. It is. It always was. And shadows only stretch out longer. Not everyone is ready to face their reflection — In their mirror, there’s no glow, only weariness. And it’s easier to dim another’s radiance Than to meet the unlived fragments within. When someone’s star begins to shine, It isn’t darkness — the outline just grows clearer. The light simply happens. It is. It always was. And shadows only stretch out longer. But light does not fight, it asks for no reward, It measures no heights, no steps to ascend. It simply lives. And its quiet gaze Softly touches someone else’s shadow. And if in another a pain starts to stir — That is no reason to put out the light. To be light is not a role. It is a way of burning, a way of burning. When someone’s star begins to shine, It isn’t darkness — the outline just grows clearer. The light simply happens. It is. It always was. And shadows only stretch out longer.
