The fairy sails a boat made of light through a garden growing at the edge of the sky.
She follows her own light through time.
The scene opens and closes around her like pages in a book. Each mountain appears for a moment, then slips behind another, as though the world is telling a story one line at a time.
“Where does the story end?” she asks.
The wind carries a laugh across the horizon.
The story does not end. It simply turns a page.
The fairy watches a spark leave her sail and drift upward. Soon she cannot tell whether the spark has joined the sky or whether the sky has welcomed it home.
She begins to wonder if every river is searching for the sea, or if the sea is quietly reaching for every river.
The mountains listen. The flowers listen. The clouds listen.
And the fairy realizes that life is not a road leading somewhere else.
It is a song listening to itself.
So she continues her journey, letting the horizon move while her heart remains soft.
The boat glides forward.
The sky unfolds.
Hi.
I am sending Love, Skyarina 🩷
