Precious. And Personal. That thought was more than what a thought has ever been or could ever be. It is more delicate than the first snowflake before it reaches out to touch the hard, muddled, very tangible earth. Undoubtedly, it is one of a kind like every snowflake but much rarer.
It probably has its destiny and one day... someday, it must reach earth to meet tangibility. But then it would not remain that fluff disc anymore, not for long. It will be real, yes, but who doesn't crave illusion once in a while!
Until then, I can't find it in me to let that translucence take away the breath of its presence. It is perhaps selfishness, perhaps fear, or a desperation to have wisdom beyond knowledge, or maybe something else altogether. It's that instinct to keep it veiled in the brightest light the creation could ever encompass.
Is it preservation or possession?
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