Pythoness

Flames lick the air, seeking another soul to devour. Greedily, it calls out.

Our names are carried on a breeze, like a haunting whisper. They drift among sleeping clouds, through open windows and slip effortlessly into our slumbering dreams.

Fear is daft, unknowing to the things in the universe it can not understand. Seeking to destroy all that challenges it with reckless abandon.

You can burn us if you want. You may bury us beneath our own ashes if you so choose, but you can never eliminate us.

For every tree you take down, releases a million seeds to grow from the ashes.

We are the granddaughters of all the witches weren’t able to burn, as are we the seeds from the ones you did.

You thought you buried us, but we were the seeds that flourished.