I noticed the missing wing first.
Then I noticed something else.
It was still beautiful.
A part was gone.
The journey remained.
A wing was damaged.
The moth still arrived.
Many things in nature are not perfect.
Neither are we.
Yet somehow, they continue to fly.
The missing wing was obvious.
The courage to keep going was quieter.
Broken does not mean finished.
Damaged does not mean defeated.
The wing was incomplete. The beauty was not.
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