𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙠 𝙖𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪.
The universe is a mix of pinks and blacks and magentas and all the stars you wished upon every night. The fallen, the twinkling, the lost, and the corpses. Stardust trail freely, just as dandelions do in swift winds, taking your dreams across the universe, riding the ends of phoenix wings, dying and reliving every blaspheme as they go.
You should know that you are a vast plain of endless plantae. Each species a limb that makes up your being. Orchids are your serenity, tinkling like bells once trouble ensues. The olive shrub with its twisted roots and scaly bark is your wisdom, ever thriving in catastrophe. They say mahogany stands proud even when struck by lightning, and you display strength even in hurt. The daisies are your smiles that brighten up friends when in dire need of solace and you have just the whorls dedicated to that.
You are so
accustomed
to following mushroom rings where fairy festivals are held and you know you are a witness of magic. Thus, the little dots of twinkling starlight are more than just acquaintances whose names become ghosts in fleeting memory.
You should know that you are a vast plain of endless plantae and as a whole, it breathes. Can you see it? The rising and falling of the earth in soft waves as smooth as butter, as if it were flesh encasing the warmth of hearts, where yearning lies. As the phoenix glides over this field, the ears of wheat dance upon the littlest hint of breeze, succumbing to childlike innocence, tales of you and what could have, what might have been, and the ones without endings.
Still, you are as quiet as the day after the explosion of a new year, picking up empty bottles in once-crowded tables. Because this, you know: this field of yours, forever blooming, will remain lost in your universe of dreams, suspended in the pocket of wishful galaxy, unknowing of what's beyond. Protect this field, or you would be handed a scythe, and told to cut off your hands.
𝘏𝘢𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘴𝘵, they will say, and 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘴𝘵, you
will.
Do not let them dismount you from the phoenix, and let you cripple towards a home you've lost forever.
