Blooming Flowers

Swamp

•art belongs to its rightful owner•

Under the starlit blanket of night, a man takes a seat on one of the many roots of the tree that towers over even the tallest of mountains. He decides that his journey is for some other brave adventurer, and he just rests, watching nature. His eye turn to the right, where he could have continued, the bushes covering his path, never to be seen again as he has given up. He turns to the left, the path home, being lit up by fireflies, and bioluminescent worms. To give him a welcoming feeling.

He gazes up. The sky littered with stars, and with two moons. He smiles, knowing he could have chosen a different path, and now he can. To travel through the stars, the seas, or back on land. His choices are his alone, and it takes everyone time to think of what they would do.

He looks down, at the water. His foot barely touching the edge when he puts it down. He watches as fish swim, eat, and everything else. He watches as a few swim quickly, trying to escape from a predator, with the water being cut as some swim up, to catch insects moving quickly across the water, to catch small meals. He watches as frogs jump to the water, and swim, catching their own meals.

He then stands, looking towards the way home. Though he looks towards the way forward, and he goes. Pushing past the bushes, his feet step into another part of this swamp, and he feels fish move past his foot. He presses onward, even submerging himself as it gets deeper. He opens his eye, to look at what he couldn't. Fish swim past him, frogs jump above him. He steps forward, and the ground glows, it glows a calming blue.

Like he chose the one he needed,

and the one he wanted.

He steps out of the water, back to land. He even says goodbye to it, for giving him motivation to keep going, and remember that even in the roughest of times, everything finds a way. Even if it doesn't seem like it, the fly can escape or the frog can catch it. Survival depends on you, so giving up is not an option.

He trips, slamming his head on a rock, and giving himself a bloody forehead, a concussion, and close unconsciousness.

Because sometimes it doesn't go as planned, and you can't try again, because you didn't try, you did it.

He sets up camp, because if he went on with these injuries, he would just be walking on a broken leg. He knows to take it easy. He doesn't have a time constraint, but why have one? To keep yourself going, to let you know about your survival. But also, in some ways, to stress yourself, to push yourself. Just to try as hard as you can, but to just fail in the end.

He looks up, at the stars, fireflies lighting the sky up aswell.

Because, tomorrow is another day.