Everything has its time. The days were getting shorter, the evenings cooler, even the hue of the sun was slightly different. Autumn approached and this was the time for the fallen to play.
For most of the season many of them stayed attached to their mothers. She nourished them lovingly, making them strong and beautiful. Things change, as do the seasons. It was time for them to leave their mothers – their final pilgrimage. Many travelled on the breath of the wind, exploring streets and gardens alike. Their pilgrimage took them far from their mothers to foreign playgrounds. They were free.
No longer bonded to their mothers, but the love still remained. They are who they are, because of the love of their mothers. It is never forgotten and always celebrated. The wind provided them with rhythm and they gravitated toward one another, collecting in small groups. The fallen children danced in circles, beautiful and carefree. The dried brittle sounds of the fallen scraped the ground, creating a melody for the wind. The children danced and celebrated to the music that life offered. High above the ground the mothers took pride and joy in seeing their children sharing in the music and dance – children from different lands with different appearances, all sharing in the joy of life.
Everything has its time, this was the time for the fallen to dance.