• In a sun-lit grove, along the edge of a stream, there was a lone rose bud, not yet bloomed, yet brimming with the essence of life and purity. It was there, where the stream meets the forest, where that rose opened its fragile lips, as if to gently whisper, “Hello.” The rose, now revealing its inner beauty, wavered in the summer breeze, and from that breeze, two rose petals removed themselves from the flesh that birthed them, and flew away with the wind beneath them.

    The two petals, now free from their earthly bonds, danced with delight as they flitted and fluttered with their flowing savior. They flew for days, perhaps weeks, floating above their kin, passing forest after forest, grove after grove. The two scarlet travelers looked down at their old home, the mother Earth, and pitied her, for she could never know the splendor of the world where they now took residence. However, the force that kept them afloat, the stream from Aeolus in which they swam, began to fade.

    Like a candle burning through its last bit of wax; like the grandfather clock sounding its last chime of midnight; like the Moon touches the horizon to make way for the dawn; that mighty wind that lifted the petals from their stem died, abandoning its passengers.

    That enlightened pair watched, helpless against the will of Nature, as they fell from their thrones up high, and came to rest upon the flesh of their mother. She welcomed them with open arms, warmly caressing them as they wept for the life they had lost, the life that came and went like Apollo’s chariot. They lay there, near the stem from which they were taken, and gave in to the whims that they could not control, those ever moving tides of Time.