Clouds, Tea, and the War of the Sorcerers

Hana sits beside the old man.Clothes hang on the ship’s lines,swaying gently in the breeze.
Their hands are warmed by tea.The steam dances like a sweet memory in the air.
The old man says softly:– “You were my loneliness… and now I go with you, beyond the forest.”
Hana smiles.The bike is still there,but now it’s glowing with energy.
The old man climbs on behind her.Hana pedals,and the bicycle lifts from the ground…
They fly into the clouds.The clouds are white like a canvas.
The old man pulls a brush from his pocketand begins to paint across the clouds:
Flowers, birds, people laughing…The clouds turn colorful, the shapes come alive.
Then, beside a cluster of cloud, water gathers.The old man shapes a boat of light with his handsand gently places it into the sky’s water.
And now—sound.
Airships appear in the distance,sorcerers riding flying machines,red and blue lights,explosions.
The old man gives a deep look:– “The war always starts near the festival…The sorcerers want more of the ‘essence’…But this time, it’s different… something’s changing…”
Hana looks down.The earth is small and far away,but she’s high above… with her bicycle,in the heart of the sky, with someone who was once old.