Once upon a gentle breeze, a leaf blew to life. It turned its fragile tip to the morning dew as rays etched its face, deep into its veins. It stole a whisper from the ages past, rendered on the wind.
In a muted voice, it sailed to faraway shores, borne on the crest of a wave. It dipped into streams of thought, feather-edged as the air. It swept the skies with the fringe of a palm, swaying to a timeless beat. The rhythm that raced through its grain was laced with the ferment of being.
Its infinite array was vernal-hued, painted in a flurry of light. Wind-carved, delicate as dragonfly wings, it etched gossamer shades on a sprawling mosaic, a jigsaw of water and land.
But as time took its toll, the greens turned to brown. And new nodes sprouted to bloom. Then sap rose anew, humming with life. As the breeze bore a jade leaf again.
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