A thousand waterfalls, or more, towering layers, feeding one another. Turbid and deep in the ancient slough. Across a soak of violet moss, an algae rinse surveying silent the ardor of springtime blossom.
Fuschia kelp hewn from amethyst; the lilacs died and their graves grew moss. With these sugilite sculptures, the falls were imbrued, and soon were given unto the same cerise hue.
These tiered creeks, so like a staircase, fell in love with the bryphophite wash.
And like a pond filled with plums, the lake birthed from the falls proved to be dyed the most purple of all.