Sometimes world conspires to make stardust, and it doesn’t look for perfection while creation. It takes the beautiful imperfections out of its bests and it pours purity into the heart of it.
And you were made of this stardust. The Universe has conspired to make you.
And it celebrates your existence every day in its own way by giving you energy out of its core.
You have been hurt but you have not lost. You are the fallen angel that was banished by the monstrosity up above to the deepest pit of hell. And yet you snatched away the grace they tried to steal and you’re wearing it like a crown. The earth betrayed you and yet you’ve chosen to walk on it with a bright smile and a twinkle in your eyes, and they call you names but they’d shiver if they knew the battles you have fought to be on your feet.
Historians would write about the blood that has been shed on the battlefield and the wars you’ve fought. They would write your saga in the golden words and how you won against the demons inside of you that was seeded by the world. Authors would write novels about how the world planted thorns in a beautiful flower and yet you’ve become a rose. Only if they saw the battles that have been fought, only if they witnessed the bravery. The world would worship you if they witnessed the demons you’ve slain.
They threw you in mud and yet you grew up to be a lotus. Only if the poets knew.
You are the sunrise after dark cloudy nights.
You are the Spartan who fought for glory. You are the soldier who came back from Dunkirk and you survived gracefully. You are the phoenix that rose from its ashes.
You were the sword that the Elves would wield from fire and the blood of enemies.
So don’t you dare deprive the universe of the beauty it created. You’re not perfect. You’re the golden imperfections in the cracks of broken Japanese bowls. You’re a work-in-progress to be more than perfection, to become the golden imperfections.