I want to be Petrichor- and when it swirls in the air, sweepingly and imperceptibly strokes the senses of my peers. I want to be able to glide through the embers of burning sunlight to distribute the aroma that I’m bestowed with but; blooms are there that want to grow in divine blissfulness and there are blooms that want to blossom sans this factor. I want—want to be able to travel so far to commingle & fuse with everything; everything is important.


But I can’t be Petrichor. I am a visible form and I don’t wish to leave the legacy of Petrichor. 


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