SSD Internationals '25 ❀ Riders of Tenebris

Описание: ❀❀❀

The beginning. The honey-flower blooms across the meadows that surround us.
It grows slowly, unhurriedly — as if learning how to breathe.
In every moment of its youth, it is beautiful — differently each day, yet always truly.
Its scent drifts through the valleys, drawing the eyes of the village folk:
the children, the young, the grown, and the old.
It is the dawn of spring — the time when the earth awakens,
the world’s first breath, the birth of colour.
All who were there knew and felt
that everything was only just beginning.
Its slowness did not tire the heart — it inspired wonder,
as though each day brought forth another miracle.

The process. At first, the water stood still, silent after heavy rains,
until, with time, it began to move — slowly, shyly —
and turned into a stream, and then a river.
It carved its path through the world,
shaping itself around stones and roots.
A drop wears down the rock not by force, but by persistence,
by steady falling, patient rhythm, eternal return.
The water does not fight the obstacle —
it bends around it, following its own way.
It flows to join, to nourish, to give life.
It gathers into rivers, quenches the thirsty,
feeds the plants, shapes the land.
So life moves — flexible, shifting,
and yet always true to its purpose.

The final stage. A horse —
proud and silent, it came after the waters,
seeking the source from which all things begin.
Calm as the final breath,
it carries not sorrow, but peace.
It is not the end, but an open gate.
Its hooves strike the earth in the rhythm of eternity,
and behind it, the meadow blooms once more.

The Ongoing Cycle. Three phases of life.
Three points of a triangle, yet still circling.
The never-ending process.
We bloom, we flow, we depart.

And the world still turns —
without beginning and without end,
constantly reborn, like a breath that never ceases:
the breath of wind, of nature, of water, of earth,
of all living creatures — and of us.

And when the wind carries its song through the valleys,
within it can be heard all that has ever lived,
and all that is yet to be born.

❀ 𝐼𝑛𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑚: riders.of.tenebris