The faerie watched the water as it cascaded over the rocks. It’s shimmering sparkles drawing her attention as its thunderous roar made her ears twitch.
Looking down, she saw a single blossom borne on the silvery surface, spinning and bobbing as it moved. “Oh… how pretty….” she thought, yet in the blink of an eye it disappeared over the edge, and plummeted to fall bruised on the rocks below, never again to have that moment of shining purity.
A frown passed over her face, then was forgotten as she watched a small frog floating towards the edge. The race of water was too strong for it to successfully clamber onto the slick rocks. A moment of peace passed and its legs thrashed as it scrambled along the edge, trying to find safety. Again and again it tried, but each time was held by the strong clutch of the current. “Poor thing!” she exclaimed, and lowered a hand to it. The icy fingers of water flowed over her green ones, sending shivers of excitement throughout her and causing her wings to softly vibrate. She scooped the frog into her palm and lifted him slightly. “There you go, froggy!” she said, as she placed him onto the grassy rock where she sat. It looked up at her through wide, glassy eyes and almost heaved a sigh of relief… or so she imagined, as she smiled at him.
Once again she looked back to the water. Now it was her turn to widen her eyes as she spied a deep red pebble on the bottom of the small pool. She leaned closer and dipped her hand back into the water. Its grip was no longer that of an icy enemy, but more the warm welcome of a friend as it flowed over her palm. She felt the smoothness of the stone and lifted it from the water, smiling as she turned it this way and that, marveling at the many tones and colours. “Such a wonder!”she said out loud.
The breeze blew softly over the treasure and dried it. The faerie’s wings slumped slightly as she saw the shimmering hues disappear with the moisture. She placed her hand back into the water, palm flat, and saw how the beauty re-appeared. She beamed and placed the stone back where she had found it, then took her hand back and sat still, admiring its beauty from afar, as it nestled in the place most suited to it.
Time passes like the racing water before it tumbles over the rocks. We can either be the shining flower, gleaming for all to see for a short time, till age takes all from us. Another option is to be the exhausted frog, always seeming to thrash and struggle, always at the mercy of a cruel current.
Far better to try and be like the stone. Try and stand strong, shine out as the water hurtles over us, not changing us, except to reveal more of our beauty.