The stars now start to dim, and the sun makes its return, peeking from the horizon. The scent of jasmine and petrichor fills the air, in tandem, and the gloom fades with the wind, causing flowers to spring, unfurling their pretty petals. And the old man comes back, "Players. Players. Players! Wake up!" he says. "Wha- - what?" asks Lee, unable to open his eyes with the sunlight bouncing off of their lids, "what's going on?"
"It's a new day! That's what is 'going on'" he says, bubbling with joy, "it's time to get up, and bask in the gleam of your youth!" he imparts, passionately, looking to the sky, and clenching his fist, held in front of his abdomen. Leo, no longer groggy, says, "Wait. You're back? I thought you were gone?" before then dragging his knuckle across his forehead. The old man laughs, "you're not rid of me quite yet. Here." he falls into step, placing himself before them both, "Smell." he commands. Leo and Lee's nostrils flare, making room for the warm, morning air, and the ere-named scents rush in. "That, my dear friends, is the stuff of dreams." the old man asserts, "you can forget about rainbows and unicorns."
A dewdrop falls, finding its way onto Leo's head. "What? It's not rain- -" he says, stopping as his eyes catch glimpse of the raven, perched on the tree that stood above them. "Caw" does the bird, then jumping from the branch, and leaving it to wobble—with leaves wilting from it, and landing on the brambles—as it does so on the sage's shoulder. "And the pilgrimage begins." starts the old man, forming a smile.
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The Heart's Tempo
Terror• Love • Romance • Poetry • Prose • Emotional • Philosophical • Heartfelt • Self-discovery • Connection • Desire • Vulnerability • Existential • Identity • Metaphor • Passion • Youthful • Lyrical • Intimate • Journey • Reflection ...
