Water beads adorn the flora as the prettiest of bubbles that in time will flow rather than burst.
The water bead rests as if it has come from another world, a gift from heaven. As I watch the rainbow swirls that dance over its skin I imagine them morphing into a living story, a dream-world.
In the sweet enveloping black there is a new seedling stretching upward, its leaves striped in soft greens and reds. Upon those leaves sits a water bead, a perfect sphere, soaking in the starlight, shining as if it were a new moon and destined to rise into the heavens.
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