Northstar Vale phthónos

a sunflower spent its whole life always turning toward the sun; always reaching. kairos contemplated the bright yellow leaves, the beauty of them which had always been wasted on him. he had no eye for beauty, no mind for poetry. perhaps once —

but these details were only the least of what had been lost. there was no room in him to grieve.

instead he wondered what the sunflowers must feel when the sun turned away to shine upon another.