GoKawiilHe was born into a storm, lightning split the summer sky, in a
village the world had not yet heard of.
The midwife called it a bad omen, his mother called it a sign. Your first
life began in a storm, under open sky.
One winter night you ran your hand along a cat’s back, and the
darkness cracked open with sparks.
Your mother warned the house could burn.
You were already chasing what you learned: Light would return.
Your second life came underwater, in the current deep. No light,
no air, the river pulling you under,
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