Time and the Year

And then there came the rains, bathed in the ephemeral landscapes of light and triumph. The days had passed like a moment and she was left with an eternity to mull over. A life led in the carefully woven honeycombed wishes, making the best of the older novelties and newer reminiscences. Then the weather god tried her and tested her with fire. She was a lady of the sun, and gave in to the waywardnesses of nature. As a freshly plucked plant that sustains itself in the soil where you embed it, she belonged to the soul of sustenance, embryoning herself along with the rules of the natural world.

She makes you wonder in awe, leap into consciousness and conscience from the tenements of oblivion. When asked about the trails of her roots, she smiles at you like a thousand illuminated chandeliers. The streamlets made havoc of her contours, scanning her tresses for spaces of deluge.

The verdure of the swat mindscape is preparing itself to the ways of the cosmos, like the mindfulness of the words that never fail to impress. La Aura: the dazzlement of virtue, the guide of a dream.