The high priestess addressed the sentient.
Every soul dreams, and within these dreams it is Marie who rides in on the wings of fireflies. With the felling of the forests, and the death of the fireflies, dreams have been lost, and when dreams are lost then hope too is lost.
O Marie, Goddess of Dreams, we beseech you to manifest yourself once more within our nightly visions.
O tears of Marie, transmogrify thyself.
With this prayer she uncapped the sacred jar and waited.
Suddenly billions of fireflies flew out to cover the world.
The sentient had a second chance at hope.
But had they the wisdom to protect the wings of Marie?
In response to Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers challenge of 14th July based on a photo by Janet Webb.
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I think this hints at far more than first appears. Is this a post-apocalyptic world, devastated by climate change, where humans (‘sentient beings’) must learn how to respect the rest of creation (symbolised by the fireflies)?
Good, thought-provoking stuff!
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Thank you. I’m so happy that you paused to think. I oftentimes find our arrogant obliviousness ominous.
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