Maiden Blessed ;
I dreamed of a field of daisies sprouting through the ice. A splash of yellow speckles veiled in white petals, vibrant greens piercing the frozen wasteland. Each a heart to touch. Fragile. Mortal. Precious. A veritable garden of hope, so easily trampled underfoot and yet diligent against the chilling cold. Like weeds that take root in the most desolate places.
Persistent and undeterred by those perceived harsh realities. Never enough. Never good enough. And yet they thrived under Her gentle touch. I followed so that I might learn how to make such a garden grow, a place where each is treasured, from first sprout to final wilting. For even in Her garden, filled with such wondrous things, none were impervious to the passage of time. Some grew and blossomed in an instant while others lingered turn after turn. And to each she gave the same devotion.
