Defying destruction, a delicate shoot emerged, propelling itself tenaciously toward the dying light. Ancestral spirits buried beneath layers of exploration and devastation rose up. And she rose too. Audaciously she rose and boundlessly she bloomed, and a thousand like her. A sea of red velvet, each wave summoning an orchestra of heady fragrance.
The clouds slowly parted, bathing nature's spectacle in golden sunlight, casting away shadows to reveal a vast landscape of vibrant red flowers. Only the children had stayed long enough to see it.
The majesty of this moment was etched into the hearts of every child who witnessed it, binding their sounds in a symphony of unity. Their spirits blossoming alongside the flowers as they were struck by an overwhelming sense of hope, a deep knowing of the innate interconnectedness of all beings, and of the profound alchemy of love.
YOU ARE READING
Middlemist
Krótkie OpowiadaniaThe last flower. The last hope. As the exhausted planet's heartbeat slows and the sun sets for the last time, a small crowd gathers to say goodbye.
