REBIRTH by Anișoara Laura Mustețiu
Anisoara Laura Mustetiu – a meditation
Published in Pop Up Zine 2025 Magazine theme – How Things Change, Sydney, Australia
REBIRTH
Even in my coldest season, I discovered a warmth within that never fades
—a quiet, radiant summer untouched by frost.
I walk the path of life. It is dusty with happenings—some fleeting, some eternal. It carries the heat of passion, the chill of sorrow, and the lingering scent of illusions. There are puddles of tears and the fragrance of happiness, echoes of living and departed souls, and splinters carved from the great truth.
Sleek thoughts bathe in magical silences and rise toward heavenly heights. I gaze into the depths of reality and feel myself approaching luminous truths. My soul drifts across an endless plain of lavender, surrendering to the divine perfume of nature.
I sit beside a solitary oak, breathing its temporality beneath the gaze of the universe. I touch its bark—rough and brown—and inhale the dense aroma of wood. Its strength and serenity seep into my fingers, entering the fragile cells of my body. Harmony flows through me.
At its roots, I close my eyes. I listen to angelic prayers settling gently on my face and body. My thoughts bathe in the pure, healing light of faith. Its warmth soothes my restless spirit. Peace surrounds me. The light refreshes the air with a protective charm, as if the day itself is wrapped in grace.
I remain by the oak of faith until nightfall, drinking from the nectar of experience. New recognitions bloom. New wisdom awakens. My destiny, once rigid, now listens. I have reshaped its power—not merely enduring what it offered, but choosing what I lived. I did not surrender.
A ship of beautiful thoughts floats quietly beneath the stars of hope. Each moment within it breathes, awakens, and fights for a new chance.
Moments of my life settle gently within me—millennia of seconds, millennia of metamorphosed experiences, falling like tender snowflakes. Cool and benevolent, they melt upon the sparks of my wounds, healing them with purity and grace.
In the depths, the voice of the abandoned child sleeps. The cries of the young woman, cursed with beauty, dissolve into silence.
And the mature woman—who found her strength by transcending the unnatural—returns once more to the mists of the past. She journeys to understand, to forgive, to heal. To let her pure, naked soul be reborn.
She rises as a light of what was, as a luminous dream of what could be. Rebirth is a transformation. A quiet revolution of the soul.
