Prism of a Soft Rebirth

The city was too loud, a cacophony of neon flickers and harsh, unyielding shadows that left my spirit feeling bleached. I needed to find the spectrum again—the warmth that lives beneath the glare.
Standing here, where the waterfall shatters light into a billion diamonds, I feel the heavy layers of urban fatigue dissolving. The mist clings to my skin like liquid silk, much like this translucent gown that catches every stray beam of sun. It is a baptism of brilliance.
I thought of him—not as a memory of concrete and glass, but as the warmth I felt when our hands brushed in that crowded subway station. A single spark in the dark. Now, surrounded by this hyper-saturated spray of crystal droplets, I am learning to glow from within again. The cold water is sharp, yet it heals; it washes away the grey, leaving only the pure, blinding light of a new beginning.

Editor: Neon Muse