Dance of the fallen

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.

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The Lighthouse

The mist was thick, bringing with it a definite chill to the air. It made the night quieter and darker. It was as if man had fallen away and the only sound that was heard was the roar of the waves. It stood tall as the night mist moved through the air like a ghost, engulfing all in its way. The building stood fast and refused to be taken in by the mist, it had purpose and with that purpose illuminated confidence.

There were small pin-pricks of light scattered on the horizon, barely penetrating the ominous mist. It swallowed their senses, leaving them lost. The unknown was all that remained out at sea, causing anxiety and caution among the ships.

The lighthouse knew its purpose and delighted in illuminating a path for the weary travellers. It stood proud as it radiated its intense light and almost out of excitement, it let out a loud, deep boom. The lighthouse was the sentinel of this stretch of coast. Its light pierced the mist illuminating the dark unknown, offering a direction to those who had become immobilized with caution. The great lighthouse stood tall and proud as the Shepard of the sea.