From a crosshatch network of stiff olive strands rises the unfurling fronds of sharp green bursts, outshining the fading darkness of the background. Fighting for attention, big, bold, and blanched, a veined visage hovers. A lost cousin of the flat beast cowers to the side, darker, shyer, and smaller. The spotlight almost misses it. The unnatural light gives love conditionally, and graces the round shards of glimmer with its beaming ray.
The light glances off the dirt below, giving us a patch of the earth sustaining the vegetation crowding the rest of the plane. The weeds are brighter. They glisten wetly in the night rain, nestled among sift strands of grass. They belong here, a patch of green garden, sharing the soft dirt home.
Even the cluster of stars in the corner is no match for the tropical tree. It is the center of attention, bursting out its confines. It boasts its one lone fruit to the skies. It is bright, though the night behind shrouds all other greenery. It leaps out, even as the rest of the world is pushed behind.