The beast lay waiting in the shadowy corners of the cave. Its red eyes piercing through the dense darkness. What is it looking at? Nothing. What is it waiting for? Nothing. The coldness has smothered all sound––everything is silent, stiff and lifeless. Nothing is coming.
What is the beast doing? Its solitary den carries no life, no purpose. Only coldness, bleakness, and hopelessness abound in this environment.
What is this?
The beast is shifting. As if to open its iron jaws? Why?
In a muted peace, the beast is bemoaning its existence. It seems clear as to why––it has no purpose, no design, no destination to reach.
No. No wait…
Warmth is emanating from its abyssal jaws. The frigidness in the cave is beginning to disperse. Its muted moaning has now intensified to a rumbling that is vanquishing all the numbing cold.
What is that?
The piercing red eyes have exuded a simple tear. Falling in a swift motion, the tear has burst on the hardened cave floor. It’s joined by another. And another. And another. The beast is beginning to weep.
Something is coming through the floor. Something green. What is it?
The green point is growing from the tears produced by the beast. It’s a flower. And another. And another. Flowers are protruding from the stone floor. Each flower is glowing with a sense of purpose. The more flowers, the more purpose. The more flowers, the more light. The more flowers, the more warmth. Warmth, light, and purpose are overcoming the stiff, cold atmosphere.
From this sadness has sprouted beauty. Only these deepest levels of sorrow have been able to bring about these deepest senses of joy, hope, and purpose.
Maybe there is something more for this beast.
Maybe…
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