The dead Garden

 What once was a beautiful garden, a breathtaking palette of tender colors, a delight for the eye, sunk under the worm rays of the sun… is now a darken corner with smells of dry dust coming out of the cracks filled with cockroaches…

The wind sounds the leaves and blows the dried flower petals!

The air is deadly, all dried up…witness of the drought that perished the vegetation. The trees are deformed, like people lacking food and water. The stalks have cracked under the heaviness of the flowers that lie now fallen on the soil…

Where yesterday they brought laughter in the eyes, they now summon only sorrow! When you see them so fragile, helpless…fallen in some way from their former glory…you have the impression that even the smallest pale of wind can shatter them… 

In this abandoned and darkened vision one color catches your eye obsessively…the scarlet of the dress weaned by the maiden that`s fallen between the flowers

Her beauty challenges that of the seraphs… It seams to be the very representation of nature…with her refined skin, with her red hair fixed in a sophisticated style…on her lips one can see a frosty, crisped smile and in her hand a single blue flower, like the clarity of a summer day…its leaves and petals falling apart…

Clouds angrily come to break the apparent serenity that rules this distant corner…the wind intensifies by the minute…

Trees are being torn by the storm; flowers turn to ash…the earth shivers under the pressure of the hurricane…

And in this desperate hour a single tears falls from her eyes…and as it touches the flower, it regains all its splendor…

The tempest swallows everything…the maiden vanishes in a puddle of ash…risen from the destruction of the vegetation.

The world is like an emptiness…like a black hole that has consumed itself…