Petrichor
Subjects of Benevolence
An enduring drought has plagued Mother Nature’s children, thematically depriving them of life’s essential element. They called upon her, bellowing out their incertitude, praying she would answer their entreaties before their inferior existence succumbed to the Sun’s nuclear luminescence.
They must experience a profound meagerness, knowing full well their existence hinges on her propensity for benevolence. They rightfully tremble in her presence. In one breath, she exacts her wrath upon them, ensuring they bow before her awesomeness. In another equally humbling breath, she manifests moments of tranquility, kindness, and warmth to comfort her progeny, reassuring them of her insuperable love.
Like a reflexive force, she answered her children’s requisitions.
One by one, her tears — which were imbued with her radiant, healing energy — disembarked on a perilous but noble journey, partaking in an eclectic dance through invisible electromagnetic fields, determined to cast away her children’s dolor.
Such invaluable resources as these could not fulfill their fated purpose free of interference. Atmospheric forces inherently began to mutilate them, disrupt their trajectory, and delay their arrival. Her children continued to cry out in despair, wondering if their mother had forsaken them.
Lo, the first tear fulfilled its predestined purpose as it crashed against the dehydrated soil, exploding into a liquid bloom of pure life-source and geosmin. Another tear splashed onto a creosote bush, aerosolizing the flower’s volatile oils, filling the air with a sweet, earthy fragrance. And for a singular moment, there was peace.
Their entreaties were no longer required in the presence of her radiance. Their bellows turned to songs of joy as they playfully splashed around in the rapidly accumulating waters. Their incertitude was displaced by assuredness amidst her comforting, motherly aura.
Uniformly, her children took a deep, revitalizing breath. The petrichor evoked placidity within them as the aura grew with each recurring drop. Within each breath, they could sense their Mother’s salubrious presence. With each breath, they were assured of their Mother’s benevolence, and the denouement of this afflictive drought.
Beautiful.