She remained within the glassy walls, the shining interior, the reflective partitions as the roof was created, eyes widened, jaw dropped, smile unburdened as she witnessed the creation come to life once more. It was splendid to watch someone else’s talents come to life, in whirls, in puffs, on mist, on fog, unraveling all the components necessary for a triumphant flourish, a beatific finale. The tiny herbs would be nestled, tucked, and warmed, capable of flourishing in all seasons, even the brutal, chilling cold of winter – promising foretold use on their brethren. Kin would be able to come along and be reassured, eased, soothed, assuaged from their pains, from their miseries, from their agonies all year round. The thought nearly made her bow her cranium in reverence and refrain, sing some gallant opus to the Glazier who’d done it all for them. What an amazing gift, what a fabulous capability.
Lena the Songbird i'm buried and covered peaceful under millions of stars |
[THANK YOU! <3]
@Glasgow