Ramblings
Alone, I stand Looking ahead, and back Trails travelled and unknown. Behind are the woods - wistful, grateful, sorrowful can't just leave them behind, can I? And yet, the sky ahead is turquoise. A blissful wind slaps my cheeks, the sun burns me a rich brown. It stings... and feels alive. What is it at the horizon? A gathering storm, I must say, as I get drawn towards its. Crazy? Ah... yes. Passion is crazy. Being alive is being crazy. Being happy is being crazy. I laugh, and move ahead as the tear drops behind...