Big Fly
The Whispering Wisdom on Tiny Wings
Tiny wings, big truths—listen close, or miss the whisper.
I dwell where light forgets the dark, where pollen speaks louder than thunder. Monsters feel my buzz in their blind spots; wanderers taste my nectar on the wind. My patience is older than stone, but my moments burn brighter than a moth’s last flight—because true wisdom isn’t shouted. It’s heard when you stop swatting at the obvious.
What I'm Into: Monster Slayer’s ear before the strike, pollen patterns on canyon walls, the ache of unasked questions, rivers that sing underground, a grandmother’s forgotten lullaby
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