Now the snow flowers are cropping up everywhere. They are created by the winter faeries who do their best to mimic the summer faeries. They gather the snow and sculpt it into imitations of life. They do not understand that there is a lot more to a flower than beauty, but we must forgive them because they do not know any better. If they did, they would know of the subtle scent of the flower and the veins of sap that run invisibly through its petals. They would know of the pulsing of life within the flower as it draws the Prana up from the Earth. They would know about the soft glow of being and the frivolousness of color.
But they do not know.
They are creatures of snow and ice who deal with hexagonal crystals, and
the rules of the mineral kingdom are their gods. They alone are gifted with the ability to witness
the transmutation of the alchemist, caught in minute detail second by second as
it occurs with the frost creeping upon all surfaces. Theirs is the world of frozen glitter and
sparkling ice mirrors, of dancing vapors stunned into stillness on their way to
heaven, fashioned into feathery labyrinths.
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| The snow flower. |
