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Weekly Contest #312
I remember the day I was born - not the day I was assembled, nor created, not when scattered metals fell to earth, having never strayed too close to a burning star. I remember the day that life was breathed into my being, where a soul was placed and I had a purpose. My creator is gone. I will see him again, I am certain. He wouldn’t have created me only to abandon me. But as swiftly as he appeared, he vanished, leaving me with my new awareness. There’s always been light. I had known it before I had form. I come forth from light. But now I’v...
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