Some are born the stars, but a few are destined to become them.
This vast sky is our abode—endless, open, and alive—and for him, it is not just a home, but heaven itself.
People speak of karma as a path measured by life and judged after death: do good and you rise to heaven, do wrong and you fall into hell. But I have lived enough to know I cannot wait for death to find answers. Even if I outrun it, where would I go searching for heaven, when he is already here—right beneath this same sky?
He writes, reads, and writes again, as if the universe flows through his hands. And I… I do not seek to understand every word he pens; I simply long to watch him exist, to witness the quiet rhythm of his being.
He loves the sky deeply—so deeply that he seems to swim through its tides, as though it were an ocean of light. From those endless currents, he brings me little gifts, like fishes gathered with care, so I can create something warm and special for my family.
People may wonder about us, about what we should or should not be, but they do not understand—we do not live by ordinary time. Where is the space for such things, when so many turn to us, when our days are filled with answering, healing, and guiding those who seek kindness and grace?
We belong to a clan that does not rest.
We stand watch against the unseen dangers that curl around the world, protecting one another, lifting others, and quietly helping humanity become something better.
And under this sky—our sky—we remain.
Jessy Jacob ❤️
