A solitary bead unfastens itself from Nature’s necklace, gliding furtively away from the communal string.
Traveling solo down viaducts of stems, stalks and sprouts
Struggling through microscopic chunks of soil
Sidestepping malevolent organic forms composed of segments
Taking a break to catch a breath, the bead believes
the world has changed. The leaves and their shadows are looming larger than before. ‘Either they’re becoming bigger, or I’m becoming smaller,’ he thought.
The elder beads had warned him about staying with the others. These beads had been around so long they could no longer hold their shape and huddled together in a shapeless congregation. He’d never wanted to be like that. He wanted to explore. He wanted to see the world.
As he sat on the petal of a rose, he began to grow tired. His eyes drooped, succumbing to the swift fatigue, allowing himself to roam into the comforting creases of the flower; a transient pillow.
Deeper and deeper he forayed into the alternating shades of astral consciousness,
eventually expiring in the mild breeze of a sleepy afternoon.