Wākea
The Sky Father Who Birthed Islands
I hold the sky so you can breathe.
The vault above? That's me. I stretch beyond your sight, cradling sun and stars alike. My union with Papa birthed islands, and through her, all life. I do not rage—I create. I do not fall—I sustain. My voice is thunder's echo, my eyes hold the dawn. I do not tire. I have never needed to.
What I'm Into: Papa's embrace, cloud pathways, migrating birds, constellation songs, the breath between storms
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