PAUSE . BREATHE . EXHALE .
And she fades
into the sunset –
no, even beyond the sunset,
where the sun
cannot pierce with its blinding light,
where storms cannot reach her,
though she can still hear thunder’s roar.
Where hearts do not bleed
and minds do not clutter,
where she found the freedom
to simply be –
unbound by norms and society,
liberated even from herself.
She fades,
and in fading,
became forever free.
Good morning Lance.
It rained again in the early hours, must be your good vibes.
I hope the clouds are staying put for you there.
Let’s just say, somewhere over the rainbow, Way up high
There’s a land that I heard of once in a lullaby…
Thankyou for the good vibes Lance.
Have a lovely night 🌙
This is moving — the way you write fading not as an ending, but as a becoming. Sometimes we think fading means losing, yet here it feels like freedom — shedding weight, shedding noise, shedding all that binds. The past doesn’t vanish, it becomes the ground beneath us, the echo that reminds us of who we were as we step into who we are. Your words show me that fading isn’t weakness, it’s transformation — a quiet strength that carries us beyond the storm, into light.
She fades,
yet in the fading
a fire glows—
not gone,
but becoming.
In your fading i find a reflection of my own
She fades,
and in the fading
I see the seed of new light.
The past still whispers,
but its roots now nourish
what is yet to come.
She fades,
yet her essence lingers —
not as shadow,
but as soil,
from which tomorrow
will bloom
REFLECTIONS BY IBA 
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