A withered rose in a beautiful garden full of light,
Three paths to choose from, all diverge in the end,
One path remains the same always in your heart.
A portrait of a woman with a small girl playing in the grass,
The eyes of the woman was full of love and longing,
And the shadows of death slowly drifted across the land.
The woman was weeping, seeing her own figure being carried by the coffin flame,
Praying to the gods to forget her and let her soul be reborn,
The little girl watched as the woman burns in the flames.
The little girl gathered a handful of ashes,
She put them in her pocket and went back to play in the roses.
A withered rose fell from her hand as she was walking,
But when she reached for it, the roses grew back and once again it bloomed with light.
The trees bloomed, the flowers smiled,
The birds sang, the leaves rustled in the wind,
The world watched as the rose grew back to its feet!
'This is for you, little one. For bringing back the light and for loving me so much.'
~ The girl with the ashes
'It was a beautiful, peaceful night. There was nothing but silence. The village lay asleep, and the only sounds were ones of the crickets, cicadas and night birds.
The village, at this point was quite near some forest. A small pond was situated near the village, and more importantly, in that very same forest was a beautiful garden covered in roses. Usually, the garden was a site to wonder at and marvel at the beauty of the flowers, however, during this night a different kind of beauty was present.
The garden was overrun with light. A huge fire blazed in the centre of the flower bed, just as it had for many years. The flames danced and danced, they hurt the eyes to look at them, they were just so much beauty to experience.
But within the garden, something so much more beautiful than the fire was present. The fire was the fire of life, the fire was love and friendship. The fire was light, however the garden was full of beautiful light. Coupled with the fire, was a beautiful young woman.
The girl, at around about fifteen years of age, was walking through the garden, aimlessly. Her hair was as red as blood, and her eyes were emerald as the petals of a rose. Her face was like that of an angel, her touch and her voice was the light; her face was the moon, her touch was the clouds, her love was the wind, she was the light. Her name was Tara, and she showed the world how to live, how to love and how to see the beauty of the world.
Tara walked through the garden, her eyes were fixated on a single rose. Seemed odd for her to be looking at a flower when the garden was full of them, but this rose was the most beautiful of them all, it's petals were light pink, almost white and it's stem was as green as the young grass in spring.
As she was walking past a seated form, she noticed it as it shifted. She stopped, looking at the form and half expecting to see it move again. When she arrived at the figure, she eyes widened in shock and fear. She would never have dreamed that the form was an old, old man, yet there the old man was. Her hands shaking, she reached down and touched the old man's face.
Oh, how she wished to feel the same warmth and softness of his skin.
On the surface, the man seemed peaceful, but that was deceptive, indeed, he was hiding something from her, something she would never understand.
'Why are you here? Where is your home? Do you wish to travel with me?' She asked the old man
'I've lived a wonderful life, it's been one only could dream about.
I've loved many beautiful girls, and seen many things.
I've worshipped gods and plotted against them.
I've had many friends and loved many people,
Yet this is the best thing I ever did, for now here I'm free.'
Tara was confused, yet the old man was satisfied.
'I had nothing to lose, now I have nothing.
I went to all four corners of the world, yet the world has now come to me.
I took your hand when you were still joyfully a child.
I tried to pull you away from the path you chose.
Yet you resisted and I couldn't force you,
I was about to leave, but…you held my hand and said...that you needed me.'
Tears fell from Tara's face, she never knew that the old man could have been that young, and that had he held her hand, she would have followed, but now he was weak, tired and feeble.