He came one day, and suddenly vibrant reds collided with brilliant orange, warming the heavens and filling her vision. He kissed her pink, injecting a soft sweetness into the flaming sky. She fell into him, encased in his swirling indigo's, brushing her skin and giving her goosebumps.
It was bliss.
She opened her eyes, then, and startled to see him far from her, his dazzling light embracing the peaks in the distance and running over the fields ahead. She felt cold without his touch.
Was it all a dream?
She ran to him. Chased the shadows he left, in the hopes that they would lead to him. They evaded her, skipping beneath the trees and hiding behind the hills that undulate across the land, like waves on a frozen sea.
How long she ran, no one knows. She barreled through dark forests filled with thorns that slashed her face. She crossed frigid rivers that numbed the deepest parts of her. She screamed his name as she trekked grasslands that threatened to crush her under their seeming infinity. She pursued him like a sailor drunk on the song of a siren, unaware of his fate.
Through it all she held close the memory of the light he once gave her. Through this she found the strength to go on.
Onlookers watched, saddened by the spectacle she had made of herself.

“O, pity,” they say, “for the girl that runs endlessly, chasing a thing that will forever elude her.”