Ah the rain...So refreshing and soothing to the burning souls. I see the steam rise from their scorched hearts as I walk among them. It is as if the water has cleared the smoke and ashes from their eyes, allowing them to see the beauty that surrounds them.
The rain is such an amazing thing, don't you think? Without it the Forest would remain bear and brown. No lush leaves would grow on trees; the fields would be flowerless. I cannot help but smile at Spring's first bud. Yet...So often is rain associated with sadness. One wise deer had once told me in my fawnhood that rain was the tears of angels as they looked down at us with pity as we suffered. Rubbish I say!
"Just look around!" I had told the old coot, "The rain brings life!"
"Indeed it does, little one," he had replied to me. "It symbolizes both life and death; a cycle that we all must face."
I recall the serene look in his eyes. For a stag facing his end, he showed no fear. As if he knew what laid beyond his last breath. The last thing he told me, before disappearing into the early morning mist, was to cherish what I had for one day, it shall all end.
But why...? I wonder. Why must it end? Why are we given breath...Why do our hearts beat...If it will only cease when our time it through? What purpose does my short life serve in a world that thrives long as my body has turned to soil? These are the questions I ponder...I shall always seek their answer.
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