These tiny creatures look like sparkling specks of dust. In the morning, the naked human eye mistakes them for dots of dust, dancing and shimmering in the sunlight. At night, they resemble little fireflies, glowing in the dark. In truth, however; these are tiny pixies; twinkling like the stars on a dark, lonesome sky.
There used to be a time when these pixies fluttered and flourished under the dense canopy of the forest surrounded by vibrant colors and a rare beauty.
Now, the forests are being stripped bare off their life, replenished of their basic needs and necessities. The greens are thirsty for survival, but the trees are being speedily shaved clear.
Leaves lie pale on the forest floor, many of the species have departed from their habitat, others are in the process of extinction. Every day, the dying pixies watch their home being torn apart as tree after tree is cut off from its roots and is loaded into lorries.
The slowly dying breed burdens a lot of responsibilities on their frail shoulders. They carry dew droplets from leaves to leaves, smudge the petals pink and purple to attract the pollinating bees, remove the harmful dirt particles, stopping them from strangling the roots.
Not so long ago, these creatures used to live carelessly. Giggling as they slid down the polished leafy surfaces and napping on the brightly colored petals.
It was all painted in hues of a dreamscape. But the magical beauty that was no less than an enchanting realm has become an island of poison now. Pixies used to bathe in the trickling sunlight that filtered through the tall guardian trees. Now, the same sun rays bake the delicate curtain of their wings.
Change is not positive all the time. Some human attempts, to bring a luxurious revolution, are nothing more than raw, cruel acts of selfishness. Just as deforestation is, harsh and damaging in its very searing intensity.
