Requiem to life

It was the perfect time to smoke a cigarette.

The cliff was magical before his eyes, the afternoon sun shining through the cold clouds mixed this perfect combination of light and magic. Down in the meadow, the dandelions danced, gliding like will-o'-the-wisps carried by the frigid wind as he felt his insecurities come alive at the circles they made, rising to such a towering height in their enchanted waltz that was like nothing he had seen before. He then gazed up, seeking relief in those gloomy clouds that, opposing the almighty sun, disobeyed the law of nature to run with the wind, ignoring their waiting destiny away from the warm protector of life.

His memories ran in the air sighed as a single, small tear fell down his red cheeks, all in honor of her. He sat down and rested, and with his gaze, he followed a rabbit with dense, dark fur that, after smelling the grass, fled to its burrow. After a while, it came out and ran away to get warm, and because of this, it did not notice the first drops of water falling from the sky. A single icy drop fell on his nose, enough for him to jump back to his hiding place. But the man continued to admire the beauty of the cliff, conflicting with his emotions of remorse among thorns of bitter; what he said and didn't. He didn't move from his place, all in honor of her.

The water rushed eagerly. Minute in size, the drops did their best to bring a message of happiness from above. This had the effect of reconciling him with reason, and he thanked the rebellious clouds for their cold salve. When said liquid hit the ground, it created a harmonious beat and vivace tempo that brought to life what was thought dead, immortalizing what was labeled as fleeting, all in honor of her.

For a moment, a butterfly landed on his leg, its flapping wings slightly collected the humid mist and did with it a little praise to the rain, creating, in turn, an aura of mystery that disconcerted the man, but he did not stop admiring.

He saw her at that moment before his eyes. He understood that he was not looking for nor needed her, yet there she was, in all her magnificence; she was in the grass, the animals, the rain and the sun, the clouds, and even the cliff itself. She was something bigger than the whole meadow. The man, lonely, then understood what it meant, he had lost her some time ago and had forgotten her; his days without her were dark and now she appeared elegantly before him, serving herself on a silver platter moments before his end. The man understood, happy to at least be able to participate in such a motion he put out his cigarette and looked at the sky for last, in honor of her.

Everything happened at the rhythm of the melody, the immaculate waltz of the animals, all in honor of her. This enigmatic ode of the flora turned into a song that made his mind numb and he gave in to his melodic heart that was in tune with the rain, the breeze, and the tiny insects. And the hares and foxes with their little paws admired with him what all living beings assembled with the meadow, and the dandelions remained immutable in the face of the change of weather, they celebrated relentlessly with roses, sunflowers, and daisies. Everything was in honor of her! What ecstatic beauty that nature had created before his eyes, A requiem to life!