Trails of rain, collides with streaks of waterdrop. The wonderment of stratospheric beauty. Matching through the soft soils with clouds underneath our chins, the half-dead roots protruding its perimeter reaching out for a better photosynthesis on the bright light.
Rusty was the term, as we matched forward and collapsed dust sailed afloat unto our nostril. Virtually blinded by visibility we held hands and walked the misty forest in a hazardous pattern.
Elevating further into the whiter clouds filled with extreme chillness, the ecstatic pleasure we all felt till we went paucity of air. A certain tree grew at the middle of our path and its leaves possessed an absolute smugness and a warmth welcoming touch. Even as the tree withered away, her surviving leaves were filled with undying hopes and her roots hung out there and begged for a living. There laid the most scenic flower that blossomed in the mist of overruling darkness, her survival so far could completely be placed on a spiritual chemistry. She shone brighter than reflective rays of sunshine on gentle water. Her touch was completely refined like water ripples in a glass jar. She was a flawless standout, with a nourishing seeds and a perfect mixture of ruby and maroon wrapped around its embodiment in a concentric manner. She tilted to her gravity point and in a personified image pleaded to be carried away
We planted her seeds in the entrails leading to the mountains in far away town of Jork
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment