They told me to look for the yellow sproutThey push me down the corridor, expectations casting long shadows as I move through changing landscapes. The world shifts: stark whites touch my skin; earthy browns frame my surroundings.
Through every window, ancient tales mingle with modern essences, as time slips into nature's labyrinth where reality bends. Women in luminous yellow feathered dresses beckon, laden with legends and echoes of forgotten dreams, guiding my path through an otherworldly energy that silently urges me onward. Doubt nibbles, yet an unexplainable force propels me forward. The promise of the sprout is a silent vow, etched into my thoughts like a beacon. Suddenly, the world bathes me in an ethereal dawn. At the heart of this maze of life, a gentle glow filters through the ancient, towering tree. There it stands — the yellow sprout, fragile and radiant, embodying both question and answer, silently affirming faith and persistence. Approaching with reverence, I sense profound depth, grasping its potential significance. Comprehension dawns that I can fill the void, revealing hidden sorrows and illuminating truths it yearned to convey. The homeward journey now becomes a dance between waking life and dreams. The feathered women gracefully depart, leaving me amidst a trail of brilliance. |