My mom told me:
the heart is not a fragile glass,
it is an ocean,
and every wave remembers.

She said:
when you walk through sorrow,
do not fear the shadows—
they are only the night’s way
of teaching you the stars.

My mom told me:
time is not a line,
it is a circle,
and love never leaves,
it only changes its form.

She whispered:
you are not just a child of mine,
you are a child of the universe—
born from fire,
shaped by silence,
destined for infinity.

And when I asked her,
“what is the meaning of all this?”