There was someone who seemed to be watching old mistakes from a cliff. And the breeze, slow but powerful, ignored the despair.
Marking it only as an apparent myth. The clouds and petals fell silent; undoubtedly bitter accomplices.
It felt about to suffer an immurement. No more opportunities to restructure everything that collapsed.
That almost hermetic spirit was cursed for not having expressing caution at the right time. It looked like the ashes of a dead person that cannot remain in the urn. Suffering from within.
There was no time to relearn how to walk the most suitable path. Only to decompose between columns of regret and carcasses of challenges that once existed.