There she appears with all the joy of the world, surrounded by disappointments and fear, making her way into the fields of grey. In a green-like gown, a human soul approaches afar, that later appears to be a heavenly agent of good. A blue-eyed girl of known origin appears carrying a basket full of seeds, approaching the fields with hope filling her eyes. As humble as her age, she happens to see beauty regardless of its false disguise. It was familiar for her to feel belonging to where she treads her feet on, to show reverence to where she came from. As sorrow has struck fear out of hearts and left life suffers, it was her to restore life once more. Her appearance is meant to host hope again, so the world could have much time to live. It is her quest to pass through hell, to cross the fields of grey. It was her who meant to heal and expose the wounds of the world. How painful is it for her to let her shoulders bear the world's awe. Such a good heart is doomed to cross the fields of grey so young, to see what is yet to be seen, to know what is yet to be known. How wasted are those flowers, for that time has spoiled the luxury of growth; like a thief ripping off what is alive. Leaving what is breathing suffers to death, even little daisies are sprouting out of illness. It was spring then, she has waited so long for this moment to come, for she has to present herself to the world, and what she will have to leave in this world but life? While she was planting her seeds, rain hit her skin .While raising her head above, she knew then that hope was finally wandering around. Rain watered her to the feet that she fell on the mud. She stood up with joy that filled her eyes with tears. She couldn't know that her role was meant for her, no one could ever bring life into this world but her. I was always watching her steps, wondering if we could ever cross paths and leave what is wounded. But it all seemed wrong to me, I was wrong. I must have slipped through. She isn't just a rural girl whose dreams are less-greater than others, but life in divine manifestation. She hasn't yet noticed me looking her out of my window. Every morning I wake up and watch her. If there is anything in this world that could awaken life into my heart, it wouldn't be anything but stealing a look of her. I hope she would never be in the same place these grey flowers are; only then, she would carry the sins of the world, and hope shall cease to exist. A flower for anyone to pluck, to strip its innocent nature out.
