A garden unfolds. Tended by three dark sisters with bright colored skirts.
Xantico watched – the old Aztec fire god gave it a blessing.
Somewhere there’s water. Search for it. It lies below broken stone and sand.
This is a good place. Unseen basins filled with sand hold the key to life.
This is a cruel place. Exposed to wind, sereing sun and winter’s cold breath.
The story begins. A seed falls in a crevice — that could be the end.
But it is deep down — not destined to be eaten. It will bide its time.
Winds blow and snow falls. It is a living thing and it will bide its time.
Sun scorches, fire burns, it is lying protected in its deep sanctum.
Ash and dust blow in. Rain falls — the stones shed water into its cradle.
The seed awakens. What bad fortune placed it there? How can it survive?
It bursts its hard shell and sends out tentative roots. Time is critical.
A toehold is gained and soon it secures its own place deep among the rocks.
A shoot, a small leaf, and a thorny twig appear reaching for the light.
Conditions are right. A little rain and sunlight is good – not too much.
So many things could go wrong – but it is alive. It will bide its time.
An accident of placement and sheer persistence brought it this far.
Adversity and determination combined with fortune win out.
Life is very hard. Not all struggles end this way. It’s good that some do.