2013년 11월 24일 일요일

오전 6:59

By Lavone Durgan

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About 'flowers boulder'|...by patches of a sort of densely flowering moss presenting a mass of tiny...undifferentiated chaos of derelict boulders and shattered rocks. There...







About 'flowers boulder'|...by patches of a sort of densely flowering moss presenting a mass of tiny...undifferentiated chaos of derelict boulders and shattered rocks. There...








               Ａ               ｃｏｕｐｌｅ               ｏｆ               ｄａｙｓ               ａｆｔｅｒ               Ｉ               ｈａｄ               ｇｏｎｅ               ｔｏ               ｌｉｖｅ               ａｔ               ｔｈｅ               ａｓｈｒａｍ,               ｏｎｅ               ｍｏｒｎｉｎｇ               ａｆｔｅｒ               ｄｉｓｃｉｐｌｉｎｅｓ,               Ｉ               ｗａｓ               ｉｎｖｉｔｅｄ               ｔｏ               ａ               ｗａｌｋ               ｉｎ               ｔｈｅ               ｍｅａｄｏｗｓ               ｂｙ               Ｍａｓｔｅｒ               Ｕｚúｌ,               ｔｈｉｒｄ               ｇｅｎｅｒａｔｉｏｎ               ｔｅｍｐｌｅ               ｐｒｉｅｓｔ.

Ｈｅ               ｗａｓ               ａ               ｓｈｏｒｔ,               ｗｉｒｅ-ｌｉｋｅ               ｍａｎ,               ｏｌｄ               ｅｎｏｕｇｈ               ｔｏ               ｓｔｏｏｐ               ｏｖｅｒ               ｓｌｉｇｈｔｌｙ               ａｎｄ               ｖｅｒｙ               ａｎｉｍａｔｅｄ               ｉｎ               ｈｉｓ               ｕｓｅ               ｏｆ               ａ               ｗａｌｋｉｎｇ               ｓｔｉｃｋ;               ｈｅ               ｗｏｕｌｄ               ｐｏｉｎｔ               ｗｉｔｈ               ｉｔ,               ｔａｐ               ｗｉｔｈ               ｉｔ,               ｐｏｋｅ               ｗｉｔｈ               ｉｔ,               ｗａｖｅ               ｉｔ               ｉｎ               ｔｈｅ               ａｉｒ…ｈｅ               ｃｏｕｌｄ               ｔｗｉｒｌ               ｉｔ               ｌｉｋｅ               ａ               ｂａｔｏｎ,               ｔｏｓｓ               ｉｔ               ｕｐ               ｉｎ               ｔｈｅ               ａｉｒ,               ａｎｄ               ｃａｔｃｈ               ｉｔ               ｓｔｉｌｌ               ｔｗｉｒｌｉｎｇ.
               Ｉ               ａｌｗａｙｓ               ｗｏｎｄｅｒｅｄ               ｗｈａｔ               ｎａｔｉｏｎａｌｉｔｙ               ｏｒ               ｒａｃｅ               Ｍａｓｔｅｒ               Ｕｚúｌ               ｍｉｇｈｔ               ｂｅ,               ａｎｄ               Ｉ               ｎｅｖｅｒ               ｆｏｕｎｄ               ｏｕｔ.

Ｏｆ               ａｌｌ               ｔｈｅ               ｑｕｅｓｔｉｏｎｓ               ｏｎｅ               ｍｉｇｈｔ               ａｓｋ               ａ               ｍａｓｔｅｒ               ｍｙｓｔｉｃ               ｏｒ               ａｂｏｕｔ               ａ               ｍａｓｔｅｒ               ｍｙｓｔｉｃ,               ｔｈｉｓ               ｏｎｅ               ｓｅｅｍｅｄ               ｔｈｅ               ｌｅａｓｔ               ｉｍｐｏｒｔａｎｔ.
               Ｉ               ｗａｓ               ａｃｃｕｓｔｏｍｅｄ               ｔｏ               ｔａｋｉｎｇ               ｂｒｉｓｋ               ｗａｌｋｓ;               ｂｕｔ               ｎｏｗ,               ｔｈｅ               ｏｌｄ               ｍａｎ               ｈａｄ               ｔａｋｅｎ               ｍｙ               ａｒｍ,               ｐｒｅｔｅｎｄｉｎｇ               ｔｏ               ｎｅｅｄ               ｍｙ               ｓｕｐｐｏｒｔ,               ａｎｄ               ｔｈｅｒｅｂｙ               ｈａｖｉｎｇ               ｍｅ               ｗａｌｋ               ｓｌｏｗｌｙ.

Ｉ               ｋｎｅｗ               ｈｅ               ｗａｓ               ｐｒｅｔｅｎｄｉｎｇ,               ｂｅｃａｕｓｅ               Ｉ               ｈａｄ               ｓｅｅｎ               ｔｈｉｓ               ｓａｍｅ               ｏｌｄ               ｍａｎ               ｗｈｅｎ               ｈｅ               ｗａｓ               ｉｎ               ａ               ｈｕｒｒｙ.
               Ａｓ               ｗｅ               ｗａｌｋｅｄ,               ｈｅ               ｓｐｏｋｅ               ｓｏｆｔｌｙ,               ｃａｓｕａｌｌｙ               ｓｈａｒｉｎｇ               ｈｉｓ               ｔｈｏｕｇｈｔｓ;               ａｎｄ               ｈｅ               ｇｅｓｔｕｒｅｄ               ａｎｄ               ｐｏｉｎｔｅｄ               ｓｐｒｉｇｈｔｆｕｌｌｙ               ｗｉｔｈ               ｈｉｓ               ｗａｌｋｉｎｇ               ｓｔｉｃｋ               ａｔ               ｔｈｅ               ｓｕｂｊｅｃｔｓ               ｏｆ               ｈｉｓ               ｃｏｎｖｅｒｓａｔｉｏｎ.

"Ｌｅｔ               ｍｅ               ｓｅｅ,               ｔｏｄａｙ               ｗｅ               ａｒｅ               ｌｏｏｋｉｎｇ               ａｔ               ｔｈｅ               ｃｌｏｕｄｓ               ａｎｄ               ｔｈｅ               ｔｒｅｅｓ…ｌｉｓｔｅｎｉｎｇ               ｔｏ               ｔｈｅ               ｂｉｒｄｓ               ａｎｄ               ｉｎｓｅｃｔｓ               ａｎｄ               ｏｔｈｅｒ               ｔｈｉｎｇｓ               ａｒｏｕｎｄ               ｕｓ…ｓｍｅｌｌｉｎｇ               ｔｈｅ               ｆｌｏｗｅｒｓ,               ｔｈｅ               ｅａｒｔｈ,               ｗａｔｅｒ,               ａｎｄ               ｏｔｈｅｒ               ｔｈｉｎｇｓ               ａｒｏｕｎｄ               ｕｓ…ｆｅｅｌｉｎｇ               ｔｈｅ               ｄｒｙｎｅｓｓ               ｏｒ               ｔｈｅ               ｍｏｉｓｔｕｒｅ               ｉｎ               ｔｈｅ               ａｉｒ               ｗｉｔｈ               ｏｕｒ               ｓｋｉｎ,               ｗｉｔｈ               ｏｕｒ               ｆａｃｅ…ａｎｄ               ｔａｓｔｉｎｇ               ｔｈｅ               ｔｈｉｎｇｓ               ｔｈａｔ               ｗｅ               ｍｉｇｈｔ               ｏｂｓｅｒｖｅ               ｏｔｈｅｒ               ｃｒｅａｔｕｒｅｓ               ｅａｔｉｎｇ…ｗｉｔｈ               ｓｏｍｅ               ｅｘｃｅｐｔｉｏｎｓ               ｏｆ               ｃｏｕｒｓｅ."               Ｈｅ               ｇｌａｎｃｅｄ               ｕｐ               ａｔ               ｍｅ               ｏｖｅｒ               ｈｉｓ               ｓｕｎｇｌａｓｓｅｓ               ａｎｄ               ｇｒｉｎｎｅｄ.
               Ｉ               ｃｈｕｃｋｌｅｄ;               Ｉ               ｗａｓ               ａｗａｒｅ               ｔｈａｔ               ｔｈｉｓ               ｗａｓ               ａ               ｌｅａｄｉｎｇ               ｃｏｎｖｅｒｓａｔｉｏｎ,               ｗｈｉｃｈ               Ｉ               ｈａｄ               ｈｅａｒｄ               ｈｉｍ               ｕｓｅ               ｗｉｔｈ               ｇｒｏｕｐｓ               ｏｆ               ｍｕｃｈ               ｙｏｕｎｇｅｒ               ｉｎｉｔｉａｔｅｓ.

Ｔｈｅｒｅ               ｗａｓ               ｓｏｍｅｔｈｉｎｇ               ｉｎ               Ｕｚúｌ'ｓ               ｍａｎｎｅｒ,               ｉｎ               ｈｉｓ               ａｔｔｉｔｕｄｅ,               ｉｎ               ｈｉｓ               ｖｅｒｙ               ｐｒｅｓｅｎｃｅ               ａｌｏｎｅ,               ｔｈａｔ               ｅｎｄｅａｒｅｄ               ｈｉｍ               ｔｏ               ａｎｙｏｎｅ               ｗｈｏ               ｋｎｅｗ               ｈｉｍ.

Ｉ               ｈａｄ               ｂｅｃｏｍｅ               ａｗａｒｅ,               ａｆｔｅｒ               ａ               ｆｅｗ               ｓｈｏｒｔ               ｍｅｅｔｉｎｇｓ               ｗｉｔｈ               ｈｉｍ,               ｔｈａｔ               ｈｅ               ｈａｄ               ｂｅｅｎ               ｗａｎｔｉｎｇ               ｔｏ               ｔｅｌｌ               ｍｅ               ｓｏｍｅｔｈｉｎｇ;               ｈｅ'ｄ               ｂｅｅｎ               ｗａｉｔｉｎｇ               ｆｏｒ               ｔｈｅ               ｒｉｇｈｔ               ｔｉｍｅ.
               Ｗｅ               ｗｅｒｅ               ｗａｌｋｉｎｇ               ａｌｏｎｇ               ａ               ｆｏｏｔｐａｔｈ               ｗｈｅｎ               ｗｅ               ｃａｍｅ               ｕｐｏｎ               ａ               ｐａｔｃｈ               ｏｆ               ｐａｓｑｕｅｆｌｏｗｅｒｓ,               ａｎｄ               ｔｈｅｒｅ               ｔｈｅ               Ｍａｓｔｅｒ               ｌｉｎｇｅｒｅｄ,               ｇａｚｉｎｇ               ｌｏｖｉｎｇｌｙ               ｕｐｏｎ               ｔｈｅ               ｓｉｇｈｔ.

"Ｄｏｅｓ               ｔｈｉｓ               ｐｌａｃｅ               ｒｅｍｉｎｄ               ｙｏｕ               ｏｆ               ａｎｙｔｈｉｎｇ?"               ｈｅ               ａｓｋｅｄ.
               Ｉ               ｌｏｏｋｅｄ               ａｔ               ｈｉｍ               ｃｕｒｉｏｕｓｌｙ.

"Ｙｅｓ,               Ｍａｓｔｅｒ"               Ｉ               ｒｅｓｐｏｎｄｅｄ,               "Ｉｔ               ｒｅｍｉｎｄｓ               ｍｅ               ｏｆ               ｓｏｍｅｔｈｉｎｇ               ｔｈａｔ               ｈａｐｐｅｎｅｄ               ｔｏ               ｍｅ               ａ               ｌｏｎｇ               ｔｉｍｅ               ａｇｏ,               ｗｈｅｎ               Ｉ               ｗａｓ               ｂａｃｋ               ｈｏｍｅ,               ｉｎ               Ｔｅｘａｓ.

Ｉｔ'ｓ               ｂｅｅｎ               ｓｏ               ｌｏｎｇ               ａｇｏ               ｎｏｗ,               Ｉ               ｈａｄｎ'ｔ               ｔｈｏｕｇｈｔ               ａｂｏｕｔ               ｉｔ               ｆｏｒ               ｓｏｍｅ               ｔｉｍｅ."
               "Ｒｅａｌｌｙ?

Ｗｈｙ               ｄｏｎ'ｔ               ｙｏｕ               ｔｅｌｌ               ｍｅ               ａｂｏｕｔ               ｉｔ"               ｈｅ               ｓａｉｄ,               ａｓ               ｈｅ               ｄｕｓｔｅｄ               ｏｆｆ               ａ               ｂｏｕｌｄｅｒ               ａｎｄ               ｓａｔ.
               "Ｗｅｌｌ,               ａｓ               Ｉ               ｓａｉｄ,               ｉｔ               ｗａｓ               ｉｎ               Ｔｅｘａｓ;               Ｉ               ｗａｓ               ｏｕｔ               ｗａｌｋｉｎｇ,               ｍｕｃｈ               ａｓ               ｗｅ               ａｒｅ               ｎｏｗ.

Ａｎｄ               Ｉ               ｃａｍｅ               ｕｐｏｎ               ａ               ｐｌａｃｅ               ｖｅｒｙ               ｍｕｃｈ               ｌｉｋｅ               ｔｈｉｓ,               ｅｘｃｅｐｔ               ｉｔ               ｗａｓ               ｉｍｂｕｅｄ               ｗｉｔｈ               ｂｌｕｅｂｏｎｎｅｔｓ."               Ｔｈｅ               ｍｅｍｏｒｙ               ｃａｍｅ               ｆｌｏｏｄｉｎｇ               ｂａｃｋ               ｔｏ               ｍｅ               ｎｏｗ.

"Ｉ               ｗａｓ               ｖｅｒｙ               ｍｏｖｅｄ               ｂｙ               ｔｈｅ               ｓｈｅｅｒ               ｐｒｅｓｅｎｃｅ               ｏｆ               ｃｏｌｏｒ               ａｎｄ               ｔｈｅ               ｗａｙ               ｉｔ               ｍｏｖｅｄ               ｉｎ               ｔｈｅ               ｗｉｎｄ,               ｌｉｋｅ               ｗａｖｅｓ               ｏｎ               ａ               ｌａｋｅ;               ｔｈｅｒｅ               ｗｅｒｅ               ｓｏ               ｍａｎｙ               ｆｌｏｗｅｒｓ…ａ               ｗｈｏｌｅ               ｆｉｅｌｄ               ｏｆ               ｔｈｅｍ.

Ａｎｄ               ｗｈｅｎ               Ｉ               ｌｏｗｅｒｅｄ               ｍｙ               ｈｅａｄ               ａｎｄ               ｈｅｌｄ               ｉｔ               ｊｕｓｔ               ｒｉｇｈｔ,               ｍｙ               ｅｎｔｉｒｅ               ｆｉｅｌｄ               ｏｆ               ｖｉｓｉｏｎ               ｗａｓ               ｆｉｌｌｅｄ               ｗｉｔｈ               ｔｈａｔ               ｃｏｌｏｒ…ａｌｉｖｅ               ｉｎ               ｔｈｅ               ｌｉｇｈｔ!

Ｉｔ               ｗａｓ               ｊｕｓｔ               ｓｏ               ｉｎｔｅｎｓｅ               ａｎｄ               ｂｅａｕｔｉｆｕｌ."
               Ｈｅ               ｒｅｍａｉｎｅｄ               ｓｉｌｅｎｔ,               ｇａｚｉｎｇ               ｕｐｏｎ               ｔｈｅ               ｄｅｌｉｃａｔｅ               ｂｅａｕｔｙ               ｂｅｆｏｒｅ               ｕｓ               ｎｏｗ.
               Ｗｈｅｎ               ｈｅ               ｌｏｏｋｅｄ               ｕｐ               ａｔ               ｍｅ,               Ｉ               ｃｏｎｔｉｎｕｅｄ,               "Ｉ               ｔｈｏｕｇｈｔ               Ｉ               ｈｅａｒｄ               ｓｏｍｅｔｈｉｎｇ               ａｍｏｎｇ               ｔｈｅｍ.

Ｂｕｔ               Ｉ               ｓａｗ               ｎｏｔｈｉｎｇ.

Ｔｈｅ               ｓｏｕｎｄ               ｃｏｎｔｉｎｕｅｄ.

Ｉｔ               ｗａｓ               ｖｅｒｙ               ｈｉｇｈ-ｐｉｔｃｈｅｄ,               ａｌｍｏｓｔ               ｉｎａｕｄｉｂｌｅ,               ａｎｄ               ｉｔ               ｈａｄ               ａ               ｍｅｔａｌｌｉｃ               ｏｒ               ｇｌａｓｓ-ｌｉｋｅ               ｑｕａｌｉｔｙ               ａｂｏｕｔ               ｉｔ…ａ               ｆａｉｎｔ               ｐｌａｙｆｕｌ               ｔｉｎｋｌｉｎｇ.

Ｉ               ｆｏｃｕｓｅｄ               ｍｙ               ｈｅａｒｉｎｇ               ｏｎ               ｉｔ,               ｔｒｙｉｎｇ               ｔｏ               ｓｅｅ               ｗｈｅｒｅ               ｉｔ               ｗａｓ               ｃｏｍｉｎｇ               ｆｒｏｍ.
               "Ｉ               ｗａｓ               ｉｍａｇｉｎｉｎｇ               ａ               ｌｉｔｔｌｅ               ｃｒｅａｔｕｒｅ               ｏｆ               ｓｏｍｅ               ｓｏｒｔ,               ｓｏｍｅｏｎｅ'ｓ               ｌｉｔｔｌｅ               ｈａｍｓｔｅｒ               ｏｒ               ｋｉｔｔｅｎ,               ｗｅａｒｉｎｇ               ａ               ｌｉｔｔｌｅ               ｂｅｌｌ…ｂｕｔ               ｔｈｅｎ,               ｉｔ               ｓｏｕｎｄｅｄ               ｌｉｋｅ               ｍａｎｙ               ｌｉｔｔｌｅ               ｔｉｎｙ               ｂｅｌｌｓ               ｄｏｗｎ               ｔｈｅｒｅ               ａｍｏｎｇ               ｔｈｅ               ｆｌｏｗｅｒｓ…ａｎｄ               ｔｈｅｎ               ｉｔ               ｓｔａｒｔｅｄ               ｓｏｕｎｄｉｎｇ               ｌｉｋｅ               ｖｏｉｃｅｓ."
               Ｉ               ｐａｕｓｅｄ               ａｎｄ               ｃｈｕｃｋｌｅｄ,               "Ａｓ               ｙｏｕ               ｗｅｌｌ               ｋｎｏｗ,               Ｍａｓｔｅｒ,               Ｉ               ｗａｓ               ｕｓｉｎｇ               ｄｒｕｇｓ               ｂａｃｋ               ｔｈｅｎ.

Ｉ               ｗａｓ               ｈｉｇｈ               ｏｎ               ＬＳＤ               ａｔ               ｔｈｅ               ｔｉｍｅ."
               Ｈｅ               ｌｏｏｋｅｄ               ａｔ               ｍｅ,               ｉｎｔｏ               ｍｙ               ｅｙｅｓ,               ｄｅｅｐｌｙ               ａｎｄ               ｌｏｖｉｎｇｌｙ.

"Ａｎｄ               ａｒｅ               ｙｏｕ               ｈｉｇｈ               ｏｎ               ｄｒｕｇｓ               ｎｏｗ?"               ｈｅ               ａｓｋｅｄ.
               "Ｎｏ,               ｏｆ               ｃｏｕｒｓｅ               ｎｏｔ."
               "Ａｎｄ               ｄｏ               ｙｏｕ               ｈｅａｒ               ｔｈｅ               ｖｏｉｃｅｓ               ｎｏｗ?"
               Ｉ               ｌｏｏｋｅｄ               ｂａｃｋ               ｉｎｔｏ               ｈｉｓ               ｅｙｅｓ;               ｆｏｒ               ａ               ｂｒｉｅｆ               ｍｏｍｅｎｔ,               Ｉ               ｓａｗ               ａ               ｒｅｆｌｅｃｔｉｏｎ               ｏｆ               ｍｙｓｅｌｆ               ｉｎ               ｔｈｅｉｒ               ｌｕｓｔｅｒ.

Ａｎｄ               ｔｈｅｎ               Ｉ               ｆｏｕｎｄ               ａ               ｇｌｉｎｔ               ｏｆ               ｗｈｉｔｅ               ｌｉｇｈｔ               ｉｎ               ｈｉｓ               ｐｕｐｉｌｓ.

Ｉｔ               ｗａｓ               ｌｉｋｅ               ａ               ｔｉｎｙ               ｆｌａｋｅ               ｏｆ               ｓｏｍｅｔｈｉｎｇ               ａｌｏｆｔ               ｉｎ               ａ               ｌｉｔｔｌｅ               ｃｈａｍｂｅｒ               ｏｆ               ｄａｒｋｎｅｓｓ;               ａｎｄ               ａｓ               ｉｔ               ｍｏｖｅｄ               ｆｏｒｗａｒｄ,               ｉｔ               ｂｅｇａｎ               ｔｏ               ｌｏｏｋ               ｍｏｒｅ               ｌｉｋｅ               ａ               ｓｃａｒｆ               ｆｌｏａｔｉｎｇ,               ｕｎｆｕｒｌｉｎｇ               .

.

.

ｄａｎｃｉｎｇ               .

.

.
               "Ｙｅｓ,               Ｍａｓｔｅｒ.

Ｔｈｅｙ               ａｒｅ               ｃｈａｎｔｉｎｇ."
               "Ａａｈ.

Ｉｎ               Ｅｎｇｌｉｓｈ?"
               Ｉ               ｌｉｓｔｅｎｅｄ.

"Ｉ               ｃａｎ'ｔ               ｔｅｌｌ.

Ｉｔ               ｉｓ               ｓｏ               ｖｅｒｙ               ｆａｉｎｔ               .

.

.

ｗａｉｔ."               Ｉ               ｄｒｅｗ               ｂａｃｋ               ｉｎ               ｄｉｓｂｅｌｉｅｆ.

Ｗｈａｔ               Ｉ               ｔｈｏｕｇｈｔ               ｈａｄ               ｂｅｅｎ               ｔｈｅ               ｓｏｕｎｄ               ｉｎ               ｔｈｅ               ｆｌｏｗｅｒｓ               ｇｅｔｔｉｎｇ               ｌｏｕｄｅｒ               ｗａｓ               ａｃｔｕａｌｌｙ               Ｍａｓｔｅｒ               Ｕｚúｌ               ｓｏｆｔｌｙ               ｈｕｍｍｉｎｇ               ａｌｏｎｇ.

Ｈｅ               ｏｐｅｎｅｄ               ｈｉｓ               ｅｙｅｓ               ａｎｄ               ｓｍｉｌｅｄ               ａｔ               ｍｅ,               ａ               ｓｍｉｌｅ               ｓｏ               ｏｐｅｎ               ａｎｄ               ｒｅａｌ,               ｉｔ               ｓｅｅｍｅｄ               ｔｏ               ｒｅａｃｈ               ｏｕｔ               ｖｉｓｕａｌｌｙ               ｉｎ               ａ               ｓｔｒｅａｍ               ｏｆ               ｗａｒｍ               ｇｏｌｄｅｎ               ｌｉｇｈｔ.
               "Ｗｈａｔ               ａ               ｗｏｎｄｅｒｆｕｌ               ｇｉｆｔ!"               ｈｅ               ｅｘｃｌａｉｍｅｄ,               ｈｉｓ               ｅｙｅｓ               ｗｉｄｅ.

Ａｎｄ               ｔｈｅｎ,               ｈｅ               ａｓｋｅｄ               ｍｅ               ｔｏ               ｓｉｔ               ａｎｄ               ｌｉｓｔｅｎ               ｔｏ               ｔｈｅ               ｆｌｏｗｅｒｓ               ｗｈｉｌｅ               ｈｅ               'ｒａｍｂｌｅｄ               ｏｎ'.
               "Ｔｈｅ               ｅｍｐａｔｈ               ｉｓ               ｏｎｅ               ｗｈｏ               ｆｅｅｌｓ               ｗｈａｔ               ｏｔｈｅｒｓ               ｆｅｅｌ,               ｂｅ               ｉｔ               ｐｈｙｓｉｃａｌ               ｏｒ               ｅｍｏｔｉｏｎａｌ,               ｂｅ               ｉｔ               ｐｌｅａｓｕｒａｂｌｅ               ｏｒ               ｐａｉｎｆｕｌ,               ｂｅ               ｉｔ               ｈｕｍａｎ,               ａｎｉｍａｌ,               ｏｒ               ｐｌａｎｔ.

Ｏｎｅ               ｉｓ               ｂｏｒｎ               ａｎ               ｅｍｐａｔｈ,               ｂｕｔ               ｍａｙ               ｎｏｔ               ｒｅａｌｉｚｅ               ｉｔ               ｆｏｒ               ａ               ｖｅｒｙ               ｌｏｎｇ               ｔｉｍｅ…               ｐｅｒｈａｐｓ               ｎｅｖｅｒ               ｉｎ               ｏｎｅ'ｓ               ｌｉｆｅ,               ｕｎｌｅｓｓ               ｏｎｅ               ｉｓ               ｔｏｌｄ.
               "Ｍｏｓｔ               ｌｉｖｉｎｇ               ｔｈｉｎｇｓ,               ｏｔｈｅｒ               ｔｈａｎ               ｍａｎ,               ａｒｅ               ｅｍｐａｔｈｉｃ;               ａｎｄ               ｔｈｅｒｅ               ａｒｅ               ｍａｎｙ               ｃｒｅａｔｕｒｅｓ               ｗｈｏ               ｓｈａｒｅ               ｓｙｍｂｉｏ-ｅｍｐａｔｈｉｃ               ｒｅｌａｔｉｏｎｓｈｉｐｓ               ｗｉｔｈ               ｔｈｅ               ｐｌａｎｔｓ               ｔｈｅｙ               ｄｅｐｅｎｄ               ｕｐｏｎ.
               "Ｔｈｅ               ｅｍｐａｔｈｉｃ               ａｍｂｉａｎｃｅ               ａｍｏｎｇ               ｔｈｅ               ｐａｃｋ               ａｎｉｍａｌｓ               ｉｓ               ｔｏ               ｆｅｅｌ               ｗｈａｔ               ｔｈｅ               ｏｔｈｅｒｓ               ｆｅｅｌ.

Ｉｆ               ｏｎｅ               ｉｓ               ｉｎｊｕｒｅｄ,               ａｌｌ               ｔｈｅ               ｏｔｈｅｒｓ               ｓｅｎｓｅ               ｉｔ;               ｓｏｍｅ               ｗｉｌｌ               ｉｎｓｐｅｃｔ               ｔｈｅ               ｗｏｕｎｄ               ｍｏｒｅ               ｃｌｏｓｅｌｙ,               ａｎｄ               ｏｔｈｅｒｓ               ｓｔｉｌｌ               ｗｉｌｌ               ａｔｔｅｍｐｔ               ｔｏ               ｔｒｅａｔ               ｉｔ.

Ｔｈｅ               ｆｅｅｌｉｎｇｓ               ｉｎ               ｏｎｅ               ｒａｄｉａｔｅ               ｏｕｔｗａｒｄ,               ａｎｄ               ｔｈｏｓｅ               ｏｎ               ｔｈｅ               ｐｅｒｉｍｅｔｅｒ               ｓｅｎｓｅ               ｔｈｅ               ｍｏｏｄ               ｏｆ               ｔｈｏｓｅ               ｉｎ               ｔｈｅ               ｉｎｎｅｒ               ｃｉｒｃｌｅｓ.
               "Ｗｈｅｎ               ｔｈｅｒｅ               ｉｓ               ａ               ｊｏｙｏｕｓ               ｏｃｃａｓｉｏｎ,               ｌｉｋｅ               ｔｈｅ               ｂｉｒｔｈ               ｏｆ               ｂａｂｉｅｓ               ｏｒ               ａ               ｆｒｅｓｈ               ｓｕｐｐｌｙ               ｏｆ               ｆｏｏｄ,               ｔｈｅ               ｅｍｏｔｉｏｎａｌ               ｓｔｒｅａｍ               ｃａｎ               ｂｅｃｏｍｅ               ｓｏ               ｃｏｍｐｅｌｌｉｎｇ               ｓｏ               ａｓ               ｔｏ               ｃａｕｓｅ               ｓｏｍｅ               ｃｒｅａｔｕｒｅｓ               ｔｏ               ｈｏｗｌ               ａｎｄ               ｄａｎｃｅ…ａｎｄ               ｄｉｆｆｅｒｅｎｔ               ｃｒｅａｔｕｒｅｓ               ｈｏｗｌ               ａｎｄ               ｄａｎｃｅ               ｉｎ               ｄｉｆｆｅｒｅｎｔ               ｗａｙｓ.
               "Ａ               ｐａｃｋ               ｏｆ               ｗｏｌｖｅｓ               ｕｐ               ｔｈｅ               ｍｏｕｎｔａｉｎ               ｃａｎ               ｈｏｗｌ               ａｎｄ               ｄａｎｃｅ               ｕｐ               ａ               ｃｅｌｅｂｒａｔｉｏｎ               ｉｎｔｏ               ｔｈｅ               ｎｉｇｈｔ.

Ａ               ｌｏｎｅ               ｃｏｙｏｔｅ               ｔｗｅｎｔｙ               ｍｉｌｅｓ               ａｗａｙ               ｗｉｌｌ               ｈｅａｒ               ｔｈｅ               ｈｏｗｌｉｎｇ               ａｎｄ               ｓｅｎｓｅ               ｔｈｅ               ｍｅｒｒｉｍｅｎｔ               ｉｎ               ｔｈｅ               ｅｔｈｅｒ;               ｅｖｅｎ               ｔｈｏｕｇｈ               ｈｅ               ａｎｄ               ｔｈｅ               ｗｏｌｖｅｓ               ａｒｅ               ｅｎｅｍｉｅｓ,               ｈｅ               ｗｉｌｌ               ｓｈａｒｅ               ｉｎ               ｔｈｅ               ｈｏｗｌｉｎｇ,               ｓｅｎｓｉｎｇ               ｏｎｌｙ               ａ               ｗａｖｅ               ｏｆ               ｈａｐｐｉｎｅｓｓ               ａｍｏｎｇ               ｈｉｓ               ｏｗｎ               ｋｉｎｄ.
               "Ｗｈｅｎ               ａｎｉｍａｌｓ               ａｐｐｅａｒ               ｔｏ               ｓｅｎｓｅ               ｔｈｅ               ａｐｐｒｏａｃｈ               ｏｆ               ａ               ｓｔｏｒｍ               ｏｒ               ｓｏｍｅ               ｏｔｈｅｒ               ｅｎｖｉｒｏｎｍｅｎｔａｌ               ｃｈａｎｇｅ,               ｔｈｅｒｅ               ｉｓ               ｅｍｐａｔｈｉｃ               ｃｏｍｍｕｎｉｃａｔｉｏｎ               ｏｃｃｕｒｒｉｎｇ               ｂｅｔｗｅｅｎ               ｔｈｅ               ｄｉｆｆｅｒｅｎｔ               ｓｐｉｒｉｔｓ               ｏｆ               ｔｈｅ               ｎａｔｕｒａｌ               ｗｏｒｌｄ.

Ｈｕｍａｎｓ               ａｒｅ               ｎｏｔ               ｎｅｃｅｓｓａｒｉｌｙ               ｅｘｃｌｕｄｅｄ               ｆｒｏｍ               ｔｈｅｓｅ               ｄｉｓｃｏｕｒｓｅｓ;               ｍｏｓｔ               ｈｕｍａｎｓ               ｊｕｓｔ               ｃｈｏｏｓｅ               ｔｏ               ｒｅｍａｉｎ               ｉｇｎｏｒａｎｔ               ａｂｏｕｔ               ｔｈｅｍ.
               "Ｔｈｅ               ｕｎａｗａｒｅ               ｈｕｍａｎ               ｅｍｐａｔｈ               ｆｅｅｌｓ               ａｎｄ               ｓｅｎｓｅｓ               ａｌｌ               ｔｈｅ               ｒａｎｄｏｍ               ｅｍｏｔｉｏｎｓ,               ｍｏｏｄｓ,               ａｎｄ               ａｔｔｉｔｕｄｅｓ               ｔｈａｔ               ｒａｄｉａｔｅ               ｆｒｏｍ               ａｌｌ               ｄｉｒｅｃｔｉｏｎｓ               ａｔ               ａｎｙ               ｇｉｖｅｎ               ｔｉｍｅ               -               ｆａｔｉｇｕｅ               ａｎｄ               ｄｉｓｃｏｎｔｅｎｔｍｅｎｔ,               ｊｏｙ               ａｎｄ               ｉｎｖｉｇｏｒａｔｉｏｎ,               ｐａｎｉｃ,               ｆｅａｒ,               ｊｕｂｉｌａｔｉｏｎ;               ａｎ               ｅｍｐａｔｈ               ｓｅｎｓｅｓ               ｔｈｅ               ｔｅｒｒｏｒ               ｏｆ               ａｎｉｍａｌｓ               ｉｎ               ａ               ｆｏｒｅｓｔ               ｆｉｒｅ               ｍｉｌｅｓ               ａｗａｙ               ａｎｄ               ｃａｎ               ｂｅ               ｏｖｅｒｗｈｅｌｍｅｄ               ｂｙ               ｔｈｅ               ｈｏｒｒｏｒ               ａｎｄ               ｄｅｓｐａｉｒ               ｆｅｌｔ               ｂｙ               ｔｈｅ               ｍａｓｓｅｓ               ｄｕｒｉｎｇ               ｇｌｏｂａｌ               ｃａｔａｓｔｒｏｐｈｅｓ.
               "Ｔｈｅ               ｕｎａｗａｒｅ               ｈｕｍａｎ               ｅｍｐａｔｈ               ｗｉｌｌ               ｏｆｔｅｎ               ｓｕｆｆｅｒ               ｔｈｅ               ｐａｉｎｓ               ｏｆ               ｏｔｈｅｒｓ               ｗｉｔｈｏｕｔ               ｕｎｄｅｒｓｔａｎｄｉｎｇ               ｗｈａｔ               ｉｓ               ｇｏｉｎｇ               ｏｎ.

Ｔｈｅｒｅ               ａｒｅ               ｍａｎｙ,               ｍａｎｙ               ｐｅｏｐｌｅ               ｗｈｏ               ａｒｅ               ｄｉａｇｎｏｓｅｄ               ｗｉｔｈ               ｄｅｐｒｅｓｓｉｏｎ,               ｂｅｃａｕｓｅ               ｔｈｅｙ               ｃａｒｒｙ               ｔｈｅ               ｓａｄｎｅｓｓ               ｏｆ               ｏｔｈｅｒｓ               ｗｉｔｈｏｕｔ               ｋｎｏｗｉｎｇ.

Ｏｎｅ               ｓｉｍｐｌｙ               ａｓｓｕｍｅｓ               ｔｈａｔ               ｏｎｅ               ｉｓ               ｉｌｌ,               ｂｅｃａｕｓｅ               ｏｎｅ               ｓｕｆｆｅｒｓ               ｕｎｅｘｐｌａｉｎａｂｌｅ               ｐａｉｎ               ｏｒ               ｇｒｉｅｆ.
               "Ｔｈｅ               ｅｍｐａｔｈｉｃ               ｗａｖｅｓ               ｏｆ               ａ               ｔｒｅｅ               ａｒｅ               ｌｏｗ-ｔｏｎｅｄ,               ｌｉｋｅ               ｔｈｅ               ｓｏｕｎｄｓ               ｏｆ               ａｎ               ｅｌｅｐｈａｎｔ,               ｗｈｉｃｈ               ｗｅ               ｃａｎｎｏｔ               ｈｅａｒ.

Ｓｍａｌｌｅｒ               ｐｌａｎｔｓ               ｈａｖｅ               ｈｉｇｈｅｒ               ｐｉｔｃｈｅｄ               ｅｍｐａｔｈｉｃ               ｖｉｂｒａｔｉｏｎｓ,               ｌｉｋｅ               ｄｏｇ               ｗｈｉｓｔｌｅｓ,               ｗｈｉｃｈ               ｗｅ               ｃａｎｎｏｔ               ｈｅａｒ.

Ｔｈｅｒｅ               ｗａｓ               ａ               ｔｉｍｅ               ｗｈｅｎ               ｐｌａｎｔｓ               ｅｘｉｓｔｅｄ               ｍｏｒｅ               ｉｎ               ｈａｒｍｏｎｙ               ｗｉｔｈ               ｈｕｍａｎｓ.
               "Ｐｌａｎｔｓ               ｋｎｏｗ               ｔｈｅｉｒ               ｐｌａｃｅ.

Ｔｈｅ               ｓｐｉｒｉｔ               ｏｆ               ｔｈｅ               ｆｌｏｒａ               ｉｓ               ｏｎｅ.

Ｗｅ               ｉｄｅｎｔｉｆｙ               ａｎｄ               ｌａｂｅｌ               ｔｈｅｍ               ｉｎ               ｔｈｅ               ｍｉｌｌｉｏｎｓ;               ｂｕｔ               ａｌｌ               ｔｈｅ               ｐｌａｎｔｓ               ｏｆ               ｔｈｅ               ｗｏｒｌｄ               ａｒｅ               ｃｏｎｎｅｃｔｅｄ,               ａｎｄ               ｔｈｅｙ               ｓｈａｒｅ               ｏｎｅ               ｃｏｎｓｃｉｏｕｓｎｅｓｓ.

Ｔｈｅ               ｍｏｔｈｅｒ               ｓｐｉｒｉｔ               ｏｆ               ｔｈｅ               ｐｌａｎｅｔ               ｋｎｏｗｓ               ｔｈｅ               ｏｎｅ               ｓｐｉｒｉｔ               ｏｆ               ｔｈｅ               ｆｌｏｒａ               -               ｔｈｅ               ｕｌｔｉｍａｔｅ               ｍｏｄｅｌ               ｏｆ               ｈｕｍｉｌｉｔｙ               ａｎｄ               ｓａｃｒｉｆｉｃｅ,               ｐｅｒｐｅｔｕａｌｌｙ               ｄｉｓｐｌａｙｉｎｇ               ａｎｄ               ｏｆｆｅｒｉｎｇ               ｉｔｓ               ｂｅｓｔ,               ｗｉｔｈ               ｇｒａｃｅ               ａｎｄ               ｂｅａｕｔｙ,               ｂｅｓｉｄｅｓ.

Ｔｈｅ               ｓｐｉｒｉｔ               ｏｆ               ｔｈｅ               ｆｌｏｒａ               ｇｌａｄｄｅｎｓ               ｏｕｒ               ｓｅｎｓｅｓ               ｗｉｔｈ               ｖｉｓｕａｌ               ｐｌｅａｓａｎｃｅ,               ｗｉｔｈ               ｄｅｌｉｃａｔｅ               ｓｍｅｌｌｓ,               ｄｅｌｉｇｈｔｆｕｌ               ｔａｓｔｅｓ…ａｎｄ               ｔｈｅ               ｇｒｅｅｎ               ｓｐｉｒｉｔ               ｄｏｅｓ               ｎｏｔ               ｄｉｅ;               ｉｔ               ｊｕｓｔ               ｃｏｎｔｉｎｕｅｓ               ｔｏ               ｓｈｅｄ               ｏｆ               ｉｔｓｅｌｆ               ｆｏｒ               ｔｈｅ               ｓａｋｅ               ｏｆ               ｔｈｅ               ｍｏｔｈｅｒ.
               "Ａ               ｄｏｇ               ｃａｎ               ｓｅｎｓｅ               ｔｈｅ               ｅｍｏｔｉｏｎｓ               ｏｒ               ａｔｔｉｔｕｄｅｓ               ｉｎ               ｐｅｏｐｌｅ,               ａｎｄ               ｉｔ               ｉｓ               ｎｏｔ               ｕｎｕｓｕａｌ               ｆｏｒ               ｐｅｏｐｌｅ               ｔｏ               ｓｅｎｓｅ               ｆｅｅｌｉｎｇｓ               ｉｎ               ｔｈｅｉｒ               ｐｅｔｓ.

Ｂｕｔ               ｉｔ               ｉｓ               ｖｅｒｙ,               ｖｅｒｙ               ｕｎｕｓｕａｌ               ｆｏｒ               ｔｈｅ               ｓｐｉｒｉｔ               ｏｆ               ｔｈｅ               ｆｌｏｒａ               ｔｏ               ｓｅｅｋ               ｃｏｍｍｕｎｉｏｎ               ｗｉｔｈ               ｈｕｍａｎｓ.

Ｉｔ               ｋｎｏｗｓ               ｔｈｅ               ｑｕａｌｉｔｉｅｓ               ｉｎ               ｈｕｍａｎｓ,               ｌｉｋｅ               ｇｒｅｅｄ               ａｎｄ               ｐｏｓｓｅｓｓｉｖｅｎｅｓｓ,               ｌｉｋｅ               ｃｒｕｅｌｔｙ               ａｎｄ               ａｐａｔｈｙ;               ａｎｄ               ｉｔ               ｃａｎ               ｓｅｎｓｅ               ｐｅｒｖｅｒｓｉｏｎ,               ａｎｄ               ｇｌｕｔｔｏｎｙ,               ｗａｓｔｅｆｕｌｎｅｓｓ,               ａｎｄ               ｉｇｎｏｒａｎｃｅ               ａｓ               ｉｔ               ｒｅｌａｔｅｓ               ｔｏ               ｎａｔｕｒｅ.
               "Ｔｈｅｓｅ               ａｒｅ               ｑｕａｌｉｔｉｅｓ               ｔｈａｔ               ａｒｅ               ｎｏｔ               ｄｅｔｅｃｔｅｄ               ｉｎ               ａｎｉｍａｌｓ,               ａｎｄ               ｔｈｅｙ               ａｒｅ               ｑｕａｌｉｔｉｅｓ               ｔｈａｔ               ｂｒｉｎｇ               ｆｅａｒ               ｔｏ               ｔｈｅ               ｐｌａｎｔｓ.

Ｉｎ               ｔｈｅ               ｗｏｒｌｄ               ｏｆ               ｐｌａｎｔｓ,               ｔｈｅ               ｗｏｒｓｔ               ｔｈｉｎｇｓ               ｔｈａｔ               ｃａｎ               ｂｅ               ａｒｅ               ｗａｓｔｅ               ａｎｄ               ｕｎｄｕｅ               ｄｅｓｔｒｕｃｔｉｏｎ.

Ｉｔ               ｉｓ               ｎｏｔ               ａ               ｍａｔｔｅｒ               ｏｆ               ｒｉｇｈｔ-ａｎｄ-ｗｒｏｎｇ               ｏｒ               ｔｒａｎｓｇｒｅｓｓｉｏｎ               ｏｆ               ｓｏｍｅ               ｓｏｒｔ;               ｉｔ               ｉｓ               ａ               ｍａｔｔｅｒ               ｏｆ               ｗｈａｔ               ｉｓ               ｔａｋｅｎ               ｆｒｏｍ               ｔｈｅ               ｐｌａｎｔｓ.

Ｆｏｒ               ｐｌａｎｔｓ,               ａｎｙ               ｐｌａｎｔｓ,               ｔｏ               ｒｅｖｅａｌ               ｔｈｅｉｒ               ｃｏｎｓｃｉｏｕｓｎｅｓｓ               ｔｏ               ａ               ｈｕｍａｎ               ｓｕｇｇｅｓｔｓ               ｔｈａｔ               ｔｈｅ               ｐｅｒｓｏｎ               ｉｓ               ｇｉｆｔｅｄ               ｗｉｔｈ               ｔｈｅｉｒ               ｔｒｕｓｔ."
               Ｍａｓｔｅｒ               Ｕｚúｌ               ｓｌｉｄ               ｏｆｆ               ｔｈｅ               ｂｏｕｌｄｅｒ               ａｎｄ               ｍｏｔｉｏｎｅｄ               ｆｏｒ               ｍｅ               ｔｏ               ｒｅｍａｉｎ;               ｈｅ               ｓｔｏｏｄ               ｔｈｅｒｅ               ｆｏｒ               ａ               ｍｏｍｅｎｔ,               ｓｔａｒｉｎｇ               ｄｏｗｎ               ａｔ               ｔｈｅ               ｇｒｏｕｎｄ,               ｌｏｓｔ               ｉｎ               ｔｈｏｕｇｈｔ.

Ａｎｄ               ｈｅ               ｔｕｒｎｅｄ               ｔｏ               ｍｅ               ｓａｙｉｎｇ,               "Ｙｏｕ               ｗｅｒｅ               ｂｏｒｎ               ｅｍｐａｔｈｉｃ;               ｋｎｏｗｉｎｇ               ｔｈｉｓ               ｎｏｗ,               ｙｏｕ               ｗｉｌｌ               ｓｅｅｋ               ｔｏ               ｕｎｄｅｒｓｔａｎｄ               ｔｈｉｎｇｓ               ｆｒｏｍ               ｙｏｕｒ               ｔｒｏｕｂｌｅｄ               ｐａｓｔ.

Ｉｔ               ｉｓ               ｙｏｕｒ               ｇｉｆｔ,               ａｎｄ               ｉｔ               ｉｓ               ｙｏｕｒ               ｃｕｒｓｅ;               ａｎｄ               ｋｎｏｗｉｎｇ               ｔｈｉｓ               ｎｏｗ,               ｙｏｕ               ｗｉｌｌ               ｌｅａｒｎ               ｔｏ               ｒｅｃｏｇｎｉｚｅ               ｉｔ               ａｎｄ               ｒｅａｌｉｚｅ               ｉｔ               ａｓ               ａｎｏｔｈｅｒ               ａｓｐｅｃｔ               ｏｆ               ｙｏｕｒ               ｓｅｌｆ."
               "Ｙｅｓ,               Ｍａｓｔｅｒ."
               "Ｉ'ｍ               ｎｏｔ               ｄｏｎｅ!"               Ｈｅ               ｔｕｒｎｅｄ               ａｗａｙ,               ｔｏ               ｌｏｏｋ               ｏｖｅｒ               ｔｈｅ               ｆｌｏｗｅｒｓ               ａｇａｉｎ;               ａｎｄ               Ｉ               ｓｍｉｌｅｄ               ｔｏ               ｍｙｓｅｌｆ.

"Ｙｏｕ               ｔｈｏｕｇｈｔ               ｗｅ               ｂｒｏｕｇｈｔ               ｙｏｕ               ｈｅｒｅ               ｔｏ               ｌｅａｒｎ               ｆｒｏｍ               ｕｓ;               ｓｏ               ｄｉｄ               ｗｅ.

Ｂｕｔ               ｗｅ               ｄｉｄ               ｎｏｔ               ｒｅａｌｉｚｅ               ｔｈａｔ               ｔｈｅｒｅ               ｗａｓ               ｍｏｒｅ…ｍｏｒｅ               ｔｈａｎ               ａｎ               ｅｍｐａｔｈ…
               "Ｙｏｕ               ｈａｖｅ               ｓｅｅｎ               Ｍｅｓｃａｌｉｔｏ?"               Ｈｅ               ｗａｓｎ'ｔ               ｌｏｏｋｉｎｇ               ａｔ               ｍｅ,               ｂｕｔ               Ｉ               ｎｏｄｄｅｄ.

"Ａｎｄ               ｙｏｕ               ｆｏｕｎｄ               ｈｉｍ               ｔｏ               ｂｅ               ｆｒｉｅｎｄｌｙ?"               Ｉ               ｎｏｄｄｅｄ               ａｇａｉｎ.

Ｈｅ               ｔｕｒｎｅｄ               ｂａｃｋ               ｔｏ               ｍｅ,               ｗｉｔｈ               ａ               ｓｍｉｌｅ               ｏｎ               ｈｉｓ               ｆａｃｅ.

"Ｍｅｓｃａｌｉｔｏ               ｉｓ               ａｎ               ａｓｐｅｃｔ               ｏｆ               ｔｈｅ               ｓｐｉｒｉｔ               ｏｆ               ｔｈｅ               ｆｌｏｒａ,               ｒａｔｈｅｒ               ｍｉｓｃｈｉｅｖｏｕｓ               ｂｕｔ               ｖｅｒｙ               ｂｅａｕｔｉｆｕｌ."
               Ｉ               ｈａｄ               ｔｏ               ａｓｋ,               "Ｙｏｕ               ｈａｖｅ               ｓｅｅｎ               Ｍｅｓｃａｌｉｔｏ,               Ｍａｓｔｅｒ?"
               "Ｏｆ               ｃｏｕｒｓｅ!

Ａｎｄ               Ｉ               ｄｉｄｎ'ｔ               ｈａｖｅ               ｔｏ               ｅａｔ               ａｎｙ               ｃａｃｔｕｓ,               ｅｉｔｈｅｒ.

Ａｎｙｗａｙ,               ｔｈｅ               ｓｐｉｒｉｔ               ｏｆ               ｔｈｅ               ｆｌｏｒａ               ａｐｐｅａｒｓ               ｔｏ               ｈａｖｅ               ｆｏｕｎｄ               ｆａｖｏｒ               ｉｎ               ｙｏｕ;               ｉｔ               ｓｅｅｋｓ               ｃｏｍｍｕｎｉｏｎ               ｗｉｔｈ               ｙｏｕ.

Ｙｏｕ'ｖｅ               ｃｏｍｅ               ｈｅｒｅ               ｔｏ               ｌｅａｒｎ               ｆｒｏｍ               ｔｈｅｍ."               Ａｎｄ               ｈｅ               ｓｗｅｐｔ               ｈｉｓ               ｈａｎｄ,               ｓｏ               ａｓ               ｔｏ               ｉｎｄｉｃａｔｅ               ｔｈｅ               ｆｌｏｗｅｒｓ;               ｔｈｅｎ,               ｈｅ               ｐｏｉｎｔｅｄ               ｔｏ               ａ               ｌａｒｇｅ               ｔｒｅｅ               ｄｉｒｅｃｔｌｙ               ａｃｒｏｓｓ               ｔｈｅ               ｆｌｏｗｅｒ               ｐａｔｃｈ,               ｐｅｒｈａｐｓ               ｆｉｆｔｙ               ｙａｒｄｓ               ａｗａｙ.

"Ｉ               ｒｅｃｏｍｍｅｎｄ               ｔｈａｔ               ｙｏｕ               ｓｐｅｎｄ               ｓｏｍｅ               ｔｉｍｅ               ｗｉｔｈ               ｔｈａｔ               ｏｌｄ               ｆｅｌｌｏｗ               ｏｖｅｒ               ｔｈｅｒｅ;               ｉｔ'ｓ               ｂｅｅｎ               ｔｈｅｒｅ               ａ               ｌｏｎｇ,               ｌｏｎｇ               ｔｉｍｅ.

Ｙｏｕ               ｗｉｌｌ               ｈａｖｅ               ｔｏ               ｆｉｎｄ               ａ               ｗａｙ               ｏｖｅｒ               ｔｈｅｒｅ               ｔｈａｔ               ｄｏｅｓ               ｎｏｔ               ｉｎｖｏｌｖｅ               ｄｉｓｔｕｒｂｉｎｇ               ｔｈｅ               ｆｌｏｗｅｒｓ."
               Ｉ               ｌｏｏｋｅｄ               ａｃｒｏｓｓ               ｔｈｅ               ｍｅａｄｏｗ               ａｎｄ               ｇｌａｎｃｅｄ               ｆｒｏｍ               ｓｉｄｅ               ｔｏ               ｓｉｄｅ,               ａｎｄ               ｓｕｄｄｅｎｌｙ,               Ｉ               ｗａｓ               ｓｅｅｉｎｇ               ｉｔ               ｉｎ               ａ               ｖｅｒｙ               ｄｉｆｆｅｒｅｎｔ               ｗａｙ.

Ｏｎ               ｔｈｅ               ｌｅｆｔ,               ｔｈｅ               ｆｌｏｗｅｒｓ               ａｐｐｅａｒｅｄ               ｔｏ               ｒｅａｃｈ               ｉｎｔｏ               ａ               ｔｈｉｃｋｅｔ               ｏｆ               ｂｒａｍｂｌｅｓ,               ａｎｄ               ｔｈｅｙ               ｇｒｅｗ               ｕｐ               ａｇａｉｎｓｔ               ａｎｄ               ｉｎｔｏ               ｔｈｅ               ｆｉｓｓｕｒｅｓ               ｏｆ               ｓｏｍｅ               ｒｏｃｋｓ               ｔｈａｔ               ｓｔｒｅｔｃｈｅｄ               40               ｔｏ               50               ｆｅｅｔ               ｕｐｗａｒｄｓ.

Ｏｎ               ｔｈｅ               ｒｉｇｈｔ,               ｔｈｅｒｅ               ｗｅｒｅ               ｎｏ               ｂｒａｍｂｌｅｓ,               ｂｕｔ               ｔｈｅ               ｆｌｏｗｅｒｓ               ｔｏｕｃｈｅｄ               ｕｐ               ａｇａｉｎｓｔ               ｍｏｒｅ               ｌａｒｇｅ               ｒｏｃｋｓ.

Ｉ               ｃｏｕｌｄ               ｓｅｅ               ｔｈａｔ               Ｉ               ｗｏｕｌｄ               ｈａｖｅ               ｔｏ               ｄｏ               ｓｏｍｅ               ｄｉｆｆｉｃｕｌｔ               ｒｏｃｋ               ｃｌｉｍｂｉｎｇ;               ｉｎ               ｂｏｔｈ               ｃａｓｅｓ,               ｉｔ               ｌｏｏｋｅｄ               ｌｉｋｅ               ｔｈｅ               ｃｌｉｍｂ               ｗｏｕｌｄ               ｌｅａｄ               ａｗａｙ               ｆｒｏｍ               ｔｈｅ               ｔａｒｇｅｔ               ｏｎ               ｔｈｅ               ｏｔｈｅｒ               ｓｉｄｅ.

Ｉ               ｔｏｏｋ               ｉｎ               ａ               ｄｅｅｐ               ｂｒｅａｔｈ,               ｓｍｉｌｅｄ               ｔｏ               ｍｙｓｅｌｆ               ａｇａｉｎ,               ａｎｄ               ｎｏｄｄｅｄ,               "Ｙｅｓ,               Ｍａｓｔｅｒ."
               "Ｙｏｕ               ａｌｒｅａｄｙ               ｋｎｏｗ               ｔｈａｔ               ｓｐｉｒｉｔｕａｌ               ｅｎｔｉｔｉｅｓ               ｃｏｍｅ               ｉｎ               ｔｈｅｉｒ               ｏｗｎ               ｔｉｍｅ               ａｎｄ               ｃａｎ               ｍａｎｉｆｅｓｔ               ｔｈｅｍｓｅｌｖｅｓ               ｉｎ               ｍａｎｙ               ｗａｙｓ.

Ｔｈｅ               ｓｐｉｒｉｔ               ｏｆ               ｔｈｅ               ｆｌｏｒａ               ｈａｓ               ｆｏｕｎｄ               ｔｒｕｓｔ               ｉｎ               ｙｏｕ;               ｎｏｗ,               ｙｏｕ               ｗｉｌｌ               ｓｅｅｋ               ｔｏ               ｆｉｎｄ               ｔｈａｔ               ｓａｍｅ               ｔｒｕｓｔ               ｉｎ               ｔｈｅ               ｓｐｉｒｉｔ               ｏｆ               ｔｈｅ               ｆｌｏｒａ.

Ｙｏｕ               ｍｕｓｔ               ｒｅｃｏｇｎｉｚｅ               ａｎｄ               ｒｅａｌｉｚｅ               ｔｈｉｓ               ｔｒｕｓｔ,               ｂｅｃａｕｓｅ               ａｎ               ｉｍｐｏｒｔａｎｔ               ｔｒｕｔｈ               ｗｉｌｌ               ｂｅ               ｒｅｖｅａｌｅｄ               ｔｏ               ｙｏｕ;               ａｎｄ               ｙｏｕ               ｍａｙ               ｎｏｔ               ｌｉｋｅ               ｗｈａｔ               ｙｏｕ               ｗｉｌｌ               ｌｅａｒｎ.
               "Ｔｏｍｏｒｒｏｗ,               ｙｏｕ               ｗｉｌｌ               ｂｅｇｉｎ               ｔｏ               ｌｅａｒｎ               ｔｏ               ｔｒａｎｓｃｅｎｄ."               Ａｎｄ               ｈｅ               ｓｗｅｐｔ               ｈｉｓ               ｈａｎｄ               ｏｖｅｒ               ｔｈｅ               ｆｌｏｗｅｒｓ               ａｇａｉｎ.
               "Ｆｏｒ               ｎｏｗ,               ｙｏｕ               ｗｉｌｌ               ｒｅｍａｉｎ               ｈｅｒｅ               ａｎｄ               ｌｉｓｔｅｎ               ｔｏ               ｔｈｅ               ｆｌｏｗｅｒｓ;               ｙｏｕ               ｓｈｏｕｌｄ               ａｐｐｒｅｃｉａｔｅ               ｔｈａｔ               ｌｉｔｔｌｅ               ｓｏｎｇ               ｔｈｅｙ               ａｒｅ               ｃｈａｎｔｉｎｇ…ｔｈｅｙ               ａｒｅ               ｃｈａｎｔｉｎｇ               ｉｔ               ｊｕｓｔ               ｆｏｒ               ｙｏｕ."               Ｈｅ               ｈａｄ               ａ               ｇｌｉｎｔ               ｉｎ               ｈｉｓ               ｅｙｅｓ,               ａｎｄ               ｈｅ               ｌｅｔ               ｏｕｔ               ａ               ｌｉｔｔｌｅ               ｃｈｕｃｋｌｅ,               ａｓ               ｈｅ               ｔｕｒｎｅｄ               ａｎｄ               ｗａｌｋｅｄ               ａｗａｙ.
               "Ｔｈａｎｋ               ｙｏｕ,               Ｍａｓｔｅｒ."
               Ｉｔ               ｗａｓ               ｌｅｓｓ               ｔｈａｎ               ａ               ｍｉｎｕｔｅ,               ｈｉｓ               ｖｏｉｃｅ               ｓｏｕｎｄｅｄ               ａｂｏｕｔ               30               ｙａｒｄｓ               ａｗａｙ,               ｐｒｏｊｅｃｔｅｄ               ａｎｄ               ｉｒｒｉｔａｔｅｄ,               "Ｙｏｕ               ｔｈｅｒｅ!

Ｙｏｕ               ｌｉｔｔｌｅ               ｖａｒｍｉｎｔ!

Ｙｏｕ               ｎｅｅｄ               ｔｏ               ｓｔａｙ               ｏｕｔ               ｏｆ               ｔｈｅ               ｇａｒｄｅｎ!

Ｗｅ               ｈａｖｅ               ｐｌａｎｓ               ｔｏ               ｒｅｌｏｃａｔｅ               ｙｏｕ!

Ｃｏｍｅ               ｂａｃｋ               ｈｅｒｅ,               ｙｏｕ               ｆｕｒｒｙ               ｌｉｔｔｌｅ…"
               Ｉ               ｄｉｄ               ｎｏｔ               ｌｏｏｋ               ｔｏ               ｓｅｅ               ｗｈａｔ               ｈａｄ               ｇｏｔｔｅｎ               Ｍａｓｔｅｒ               Ｕｚúｌ               ｓｏ               ｅｘｃｉｔｅｄ;               ｉｔ               ｗａｓ               ｎｏｔ               ｕｎｃｏｍｍｏｎ.

Ｉ               ａｌｌｏｗｅｄ               ｍｙｓｅｌｆ               ａ               ｓｍｉｌｅ,               ｂｕｔ               Ｉ               ｗａｓ               ｌｉｓｔｅｎｉｎｇ               ｔｏ               ｔｈｅ               ｃｈａｎｔ,               ｔｒｙｉｎｇ               ｔｏ               ｒｅｍｅｍｂｅｒ               ｉｔ,               ｔｏ               ｌｅａｒｎ               ｉｔ…Ｉ               ｗｏｕｌｄ               ｃｏｍｅ               ｔｏ               ｋｎｏｗ               ｉｎ               ｔｉｍｅ               ｔｈａｔ               ｉｔ               ｗａｓ               ｔｈｅ               ｃｈａｎｔ               ｆｏｒ               Ｇａｎｅｓｈａ               ｄｕｒｉｎｇ               Ｃｈａｔｕｒｔｈｉ.
               Ａｎｄ               Ｉ               ｃａｍｅ               ｔｏ               ｌｅａｒｎ               ａ               ｎｅｗ               ｗａｙ               ｔｏ               ｍｅｄｉｔａｔｅ,               ｉｎ               ｔｈｅ               ｃｏｍｐａｎｙ               ｏｆ               ａｎ               ｏｌｄ               ｏａｋ               ｔｒｅｅ,               ｓｏｍｅｔｉｍｅｓ               ｉｎ               ｉｔｓ               ｓｈａｄｅ               ａｎｄ               ｓｏｍｅｔｉｍｅｓ               ｉｎ               ｉｔｓ               ｂｒａｎｃｈｅｓ;               Ｉ               ｓｈａｒｅｄ               ｗｉｔｈ               ｉｔ               ｗｈａｔ               ｉｔ               ｔａｋｅｓ               ｆｏｒ               ａ               ｈｕｍａｎ               ｔｏ               ｂｅ               ｓｔｉｌｌ,               ａｎｄ               ｉｔ               ｓｈａｒｅｄ               ｗｉｔｈ               ｍｅ               ｗｈａｔ               ｉｔ               ｔａｋｅｓ               ｆｏｒ               ａ               ｔｒｅｅ               ｔｏ               ａｃｑｕｉｒｅ               ｔｏｌｅｒａｎｃｅ,               ａｎｄ               ｆｏｒｇｉｖｅｎｅｓｓ,               ａｎｄ               ｐａｔｉｅｎｃｅ.






Image of flowers boulder






flowers boulder
flowers boulder


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flowers boulder


flowers boulder Image 2


flowers boulder
flowers boulder


flowers boulder Image 3


flowers boulder
flowers boulder


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flowers boulder
flowers boulder


flowers boulder Image 5


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