The Legend of the Wh

His breath grew more and more labored, his lungs like a bellows struggling for air. He found some strength somewhere to shake with the effort of raising his hand to touch that tiny flower-like face, forcing a smile.,Death is both an end and a new beginning. Flowers bloom and wither, cycling through endless renewal. All beings can only let go of attachments and accept the natural flow of things.,Let me know if you have any other text you'd like me to translate!。