The sun will still rise, the day will still begin. The city will survive and the people will still live. While I am gone. The empty places will be filled, the empty dreams will be rebuilt. But friendship will still go on. While I am gone. The memories will grow strong, and the distance will grow long. We would still manage to smile, and laugh out loud all along. While I am gone. The priorities might change, the world might get strange. The love might find a new place, and the new place might find your love. But we would still find meaning in chaos. While I am gone.
Seasons turn, yet their rhythm never falters. The rains arrive when they must, the sun blazes in its time, and winter winds whisper their quiet chill. So too with this blog—its name carries a deliberate flaw, a gentle reminder that mistakes are part of us, often unnoticed, sometimes beautiful. Let this one be the sweetest slip of all: where Ameet becomes a myth, and myths find their faith. That's "Ameethyst"—born of imperfection, yet gleaming all the more for it.