Upon eve, in the morning of spring, I witnessed the waltz of Mother Nature through the shaded evergreens.
An apparition, personification of my daydreams, she did a ritual dance on bare-feet, while, I stooped down (hidden) on bended knee.
All the souls of nature, from the grass to the springs, sprouted to human forms around her. For she was their Goddess.
An earth quake rippled through the ground up to the air, sound as an awaken soul, destroying the old with new, an instant out of phase with time; Fantasy clashing with reality.
The scene before me was as dark as it was beautiful, violence intermixed with serenity, exhilarating my soul with desire. This is how the moment was painted.
The dance floor was a battlefield of motion and form, chaos fueling their souls, the hour: midnight. Sky was full of an alien audience of stars acting in accordance with their part. Air held amplified scents from all of nature around them.
Magical beings like animals fighting for supremacy to exist, ripping at each-others souls, at their organic flesh, shredding each-other into mulch. Music: the cries of the plants.
How deep the torment and content ran within them, ghosts of former selves floating to heaven like angels. Others, regenerating into the soil their essence, sprouting up in abundance. Mother nature their mediator. For this was the Waltz of the Seasons.
Then, as quickly as it began, all the magic faded to obscurity as Mother Nature walked on. Leaving behind the coliseum of change. Leaving behind this reporter, observing through realities peephole.
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