Once there was a woman who lost her light while walking, and entered into a dark, cold valley. She could not find a way out, and after a long time came to believe there might indeed be a way out, but not for her. And so she wandered aimlessly, thinking of all the beloved things she had left behind, all the wishful things she would never achieve. And she wept until her tears grew so cold they turned to silence.
One day, almost by accident, she came across a flower. In the damp bitter shadows, a tiny, lovely flower. The woman knelt down in fragile wonder. It was only pale, but it was beautiful.
The woman left that flower, for knowing something beautiful existed in the gloom was enough for her. But overnight the stars did not shine, and her heart seemed to shrink into a knot, and the icy shards of her grief blocked her throat so she could barely breath. It was as if seeing that beauty had made her see even more clearly the misery she was trapped in.
The next day, she could not help herself - she picked the flower. She held it against her cheek, against her breast. She felt its gentle fragrance ease her breath. All that day she carried the flower like a talisman. Guilt troubled her for having picked it - but, you see, picking flowers in the dark valley allows more to grow. Some time later, the woman came across a mouldering stone that blocked the only dry path. And there beside it was another tiny flower. She took it with her, and began to search in earnest for more. And with every flower she picked, others grew. One day she had a whole bunch of delicate daisies, and wove of them a crown for herself. She held her chin up to keep the crown steady on her head, and because of that, because her face was to the sky, she saw a small white bird.
The woman followed the bird, and in a while she came to a meadow of warm light and a thousand wild flowers. Amongst those flowers were her beloveds, and beyond them were open horizons. The woman wept freely now, all of a sudden - grief becoming joy. She ran towards love. And when her family had her in their arms at last, they asked her how she found her way out of the darkness. She said, I believed in flowers.
Another woman lives in that valley. She knows there is a way out, but doesn't believe she has the strength to take it. She spends all her days walking until she finds a tiny flower, and then she lays down beside it and looks up to the dark sky, where she sees one star that burns for her. She thinks, tomorrow I will. And maybe one tomorrow, that shall come true. Regardless, there will always be a tiny flower somewhere for her. There will always be a star.
Another woman lives in the beautiful meadow, but part of it is dark and cold as if it is that valley too. She never wishes to go there, but sometimes does so, despite herself. When this happens, her beloved stands at the edge of the darkness, holds out his hand, and sings for her. And by his song she finds the way out, and with his hand she has the strength to take it.
And there is another woman. She lives in a beautiful garden. Once a week she takes seeds from her own lovely flowers and walks into the dark valley to plant them.