Sweet flowers, dotting the circle of life. The scent light, but still noticeable. Warmth pouring out from the ground, the tree leaves ruffling in the soft wind.
The small clearing seems enchanted with magic, and purity. With the devastation over, it has nothing left to do but wait. Wait, until the magic dies out.
Compared to the rest of the world, this little part of mother nature is the only place with peace, it holds its own natural light, even with the sun starting to dim.
Untouched by the claws of the two-legged, it's the only thing left. The only thing not corrupted. However, it's slowly dying, too.
The circle of beauty gradually shrinking, the once strong trees, start to crumble, no longer able to stand. Their leaves, withering into nothingness.
The plague of humanity slowly infecting every last bit of warmth.
It kills off the bushes, leaving dry sticks on the verge of disintegrating.
It takes the flowers hostage and seeps it's venom into each vibrant petal.
Trickling through the dirt, squeezing every last drop of life out of the small, once beautiful, clearing, until everything is dead, and black.
YOU ARE READING
natural light
Historia Cortai'm writing a short story about what comes to my mind when i listen to natural light by ludovico einaudi cover is not mine. it is the songs cover. i did edit it
