Artistic Adventures with Victoria

High above, so soft and bright,
A tiny spark was born to light.
She stretched, she swirled, she rose up tall—
A newborn sun, so warm and small.

She shimmered soft, she shimmered bright,
Spreading warmth, casting light.
Below, the world awoke anew—
Blades of grass and petals grew.

She watched in awe, her heart aglow,
So much beauty down below!
“Oh, how lovely! What a sight!
I must shine to make it right!”

She shimmered strong, she shimmered high,
A golden glow across the sky.
“More light, more warmth—oh, this is right!”
She bathed the meadow, bold and bright.

The flowers swayed, the grasses gleamed,
Basking in her golden beam.
But soon the petals curled up tight,
The leaves grew pale, too hot, too bright.

The golden fields, so full of cheer,
Began to fade, then disappear.
Blades of grass turned crisp and dry,
Flowers drooped and closed their eyes.

The earth lay cracked, the stems turned brown,
Her light had burned the meadow down.
Raya gasped—her glow went thin,
Had she destroyed what once had been?

Beyond the hills, so wide, so free,
A lake lay shining, clear as sea.
It sparkled bright, a silver hue,
A mirror deep of endless blue.

Raya smiled—what dazzling light!
“I’ll make it shimmer twice as bright!”
She stretched, she swelled, her rays unfurled,
A golden glow across the world.

The ripples danced, the waves grew thin,
A golden glow poured deep within.
The water gleamed, the light was grand,
A sunlit touch on liquid land.

But then the waves turned slow and weak,
The lake grew warm, the air felt bleak.
The edges cracked, the fish swam low,
Raya did not see—yet still she’d glow.

The ripples stilled, the shimmer died,
The thirsty shore lay cracked and dry.
The edges curled, the air stood still,
No cooling mist, no flowing fill.

Raya blinked—oh, what had passed?
The lake was fading, sinking fast!
Her glow grew weak, her warmth turned thin,
Had she been too strong again?

Raya drifted, feeling small.
Maybe power was not meant for all.
She had tried to help, to shine so bright,
But all she’d done just wasn’t right.

She turned away, her glow grew dim,
A golden spark now weak and thin.
Had she been wrong to spread her light?
Should she hide away from sight?

The winds grew cool, the air felt light,
Soft shadows stretched into the night.
A hush, a pause, a breath so deep—
The world had settled into sleep.

And in the dark, beneath the sky,
The meadow sighed, the earth drank dry.
The silver mist, the quiet dew,
Began to weave the world anew.

The golden meadow, burned and bare,
Began to breathe the nighttime air.
A hidden spark, a seed below,
Stirred gently in the moonlight’s glow.

The lake, once cracked, now shimmered wide,
As silver mist danced on its tide.
The world was healing, soft and slow—
Not by light, but what lay low.

Raya watched, her light held tight,
The world had bloomed beneath the night.
The cooling dark, the silver shade,
Had mended all the light unmade.

She traced the hills, the sky, the sea,
And whispered, soft, “Now I see.”
Not just bright, not just light—
The world needs both the day and night.

Raya rose, soft and slow,
A golden warmth, a gentle glow.
Not too strong, not too high,
She let the morning touch the sky.

And when the evening called her low,
She let the silver moonlight flow.
A quiet hush, a peaceful rest,
The world had all it needed best.

The meadow swayed, the blossoms grew,
With morning sun and evening dew.
The lake lay full, its waters wide,
A mirror bright of sky and tide.

No longer fierce, no longer fast,
Raya knew—she’d learned at last.
A dance of dark, a touch of light,
Together made the world just right.

She rose once more, but not the same,
A gentler sun with softer flame.
A golden glow, so warm, so true—
She knew just what the sun must do.