|| If Heaven was a place, it is only to be assumed that you would no longer know suffering.
It is where your soul is finally at peace.
If Heaven was a person, would it still be the same...? ||
The girl was set to rule an empire she was not born by blood to. Through blood, through conspiracies, through territories; it was how that empire always moved, a bloodthirsty beast to devour everything within its path and the corpses of those who opposed it.
And yet the girl did not belong.
It expressed itself in her tenderness, it rang in her gentle voice, danced in the space between her fingers, and shimmered in her eyes, raced in her veins. A weakness, surely, and one that was not subtle; yet that girl, the outlier, can still command with the force of a queen. She never asked for the title given to her by way of “daughter”, “young mistress”, or other such frivolities, yet she wore them well and bore the weight they carried.
There was never a moment where she was allowed to show her weakness within the halls of her palace, of her cage, lest she be accosted. Yet she could never help it, no matter how much she locked it away.
The girl had compassion unmatched by those before her and any after.
How rare and precious was the smile that touched her lips, how bright were eyes that remain reminiscent of the sun and earth being one. She was raised to rule and yet even her presence soothed the beasts that were charged to ensure her growth and safety. Rabid animals protecting a lone phoenix. Even now, she exposed the rarity her kind could only be in this world.
Out in the gardens, surrounded by various, vivacious growth with their bursting colors, only painted a vision who now shed the armor she wore in attempt to protect herself and her heart. The black she’d don, bleak as a starless night sky, was replaced with a startling lily white kimono tied with an azure sash. A flute was brought to her lips, her eyes closed as the music she created swirled about the air. Despite that the ends of her dark locks brushed against her shoulders, she had the strands pinned back with a pearl hairpin. Among those flowers was where her soul flew free, unrestrained, belonging only to the sky. In this place, she bore no titles. She belonged to no one but herself. Her heart was free and she could only be her true self. She allowed very few into this sanctuary, in this peace of her own heaven; it was as sacred as the intimacy of a lover’s touch to her body.
The gust of spring wind took hold of the cherry blossom petals high in their tree that she sat under, swirling about her form as though in a spellbinding dance. That alone caused her to open her eyes, to lower the flute from her lips and to rest on her lap as she watched the petals fly. A quick laugh, full of joy, left her lips as her hand reached out, fingers stretching to catch a petal between them. Those fleeting petals, gone so soon, elude her fingers and yet there is still only joy in her eyes. Those flowers she attempted to grasp were also etched onto her skin, on the expanse of her back that held her own convictions, her reality. Would she be gone so soon, just like those delicate blossoms?
No one knew, not for sure. Only she considered life as fleeting as the cherry blossoms, to be gone so soon before you even realize.
So when you called her name and she followed your voice, you could see her smiling that precious, beautiful smile. You remember she gives that smile only to those she sees worthy of her tenderness, her compassion. That here, surrounded by bursting life, she was not a queen prepared to be dyed in blood anymore; that here, she is merely “herself” and you are merely “yourself”.
And you wonder if Heaven could just be...a person.
