Canyon

At the beginning there were no canyons on the world but a wide prairie. The Master of the Prairie was walking out over his greet lawns but he wanted to see flowers there not grasses only.
“Where are the flowers?” asked the Master and the Prairie answered.
“Master, I need seeds”
The Master instructed the birds to gather seeds of every kind of flower. Soon the prairie bloomed with yellow crowfoot, wild sunflowers, crocuses all the summer.
The Master was pleased but he noticed that his favourite flowers are missing.
“Where are the clematis, the violets and wind-flowers?”
“I need seeds master” came the answer.
The Master granted the request and he ordered the birds again to gather these seeds. But when the Master came again he couldn’t find his favourite flowers.
“What happened?”
“I can’t keep the flowers because the wind is so strong and the sun is so warm, these flowers cannot bear these circumstances”
Then the Master spoke to the Lightning who stroke down with one single blow scarring the heart of the Prairie. The Prairie groaned in agony over his black, jagged, gaping wound. A little river run through this wound carrying black mould. Once again the birds strewed the seeds in the canyon.
After a long time clematis, columbine and great elms decked out the rocks and the violets and wind flowers grew.
The canyon became the Master’s resting place. The paradise of joy and peace.