Lion Head Mesa Chrysanthemum

There is a quiet spirit in this room, dwelling within the priest, released when gentle winds blow the words. She envisions the bloom of wildflowers, of softly kissing air, of tender moments and Gods devising upon heavenly hillsides. The impassioned voice fills a delicate ear of thought.

She thinks of him– it is impossible not to. Lonely they two were now, separated; displaced and mourning the eloquent whispers that uplift her thoughts.  She had only ever loved the calm and quiet dark at his side.

When the song closes and the spirit returned, the princess blinks the tears in her eyes into a silver cascade. The golden head lifts high to look into the sage vision of her mother’s faithful, breaths trembling.

“Erpa-ha– what if— what if I do not know my heart’s desire?”