Spring never comes to Avalon. It is an ancient place, sunk fathoms below the surface of the sea. Sheltered. Immune to the change of seasons. Immune to the perpetual advance of time.
She has come home again, after being away for so long. After living upon the dry and arid land of your alien world. No one gets Avalon out of their blood forever. Everyone needs a place to feel protected.
The light of the sun, my brighter star, my sweetest bane, cannot reach so far down. The boldest of it's rays wither in disgrace. They hold no power here. The only light we see hangs on our trees as plump, luminescent fruits which writhe and bulge and threaten to dispel the ubiquitous darkness. Theirs is not a light which can spill out, however, it's a light to be consumed, in small quantities, so that we may be nurtured but not overwhelmed. So that the things which are meant to be private can stay private. So that we do not lose the protection of the void.
Do not worry. She will rise up again. She will once again grace your world, laden as it is with superficiality and ephemeral distraction, her esoteric wisdom and amaranthine beauty will shine once more as a beacon for the wayward and the damned. But let her rest for now. Let her reclaim her strength. She was born for greater things. Give her time. She shall not die like the rest.
