A circle - once whole, now scarred.
A symbol of perfection interrupted.
It stands suspended between purity and chaos,
between what was and what’s becoming.

The halo above isn’t divine, it is a reminder of what was lost in the fall.
Even sanctity breaks under pressure,
yet from those cracks, light leaks out.

The rising smoke is not destruction, it is the soul resurfacing, the aftermath of awakening.
The moment the inner self rises
through its own ashes and imperfections.

On white, it becomes poetic,
purity meeting imperfection,
light carrying its own darkness.
This is not holiness.
This is awakening through fracture.

“Even purity must shatter to remember it was alive.”