The rose petal
The rose petal falls. One precious drop of blood scattered to dust.
The world rolls on, but my petal cannot ever be replaced.
I hold out my hand and catch a raindrop. It glows and shimmers, reflecting fading colours in my eyes, trickling in rivulets down my palm and cascading down the waterfall of the stars.
They shine on forever. My petal lasts longer.
Cities rise and fall. Kingdoms are claimed and lost. Nations embrace and betray. But time sleeps on, with my petal resting softly on its cheek.
A fiery jewel sinks behind me and the world is painted in fierce crimson. Tall grasses ripple in the murmuring wind, clustering together and surging forwards to merge into yesterday, whilst small pebbles bathe in the dying warmth of an ancient age.
I step forwards into the cool darkness.