At the edge of the sea

where the wind carries both endings and beginnings,

a flame remembered itself through my hands.

Not one flame,

but three.

They rise from a single seed,

braided at the heart,

like three breaths learning the same rhythm.

One is the quiet green life

that grows without asking permission.

One is the red fire

that dares to move and transform.

One is the golden light

that remembers why it all began.

Around them the living world gathers,

leaf and wind,

soft arms of the earth

holding the fire so it does not burn

but illuminates.

The stars watch from the edges

like old friends who knew all along

that this moment would come.

And there, between sea and sky,

something simple becomes clear:

The fire was never missing.

It was only waiting

to be woven back together. 🔥✨