hello lj group....this is my first post

[idiotic_idiom]

The eyes told of hillsides streaming past the windows. Of sights unknown. Of cities beyond the horizon. Of valleys bathed in darkness that blanketed everything at such an hour, keeping each sunken town warm through fires breathing smoke and nightlights to keep the monsters at bay. And the mind told of more. A rise and fall of man’s design. A simple, shaking foundation, dripping art, music, pain, and loss. It told stories of children laying in fields. Of lovers taking midnight walks, kissing the night, and gazing upon rivers of brown and blue, bathed in moonlight. Of mountains kneeling to let you pass, plucking sunsets from the sky and giving them out. And the children would keep them in their pockets, walking past time as if it would always be that easy. The mind told stories. Blankets of stars on a bed of blood, coursing through the earth, soaking through bare feet, through blades of grass. Places where the sun was always setting. Where pinks and golds that spilled from the pallets of mountains that kissed the sky, would never bleed. They would never spill onto the landscape and leave darkness. But the moon could still be seen and the people of the small sunken towns would scale hills, armed with pen and page to write of its beauty. Creating beauty of their own as the whole town fell to silence. Silence is beauty. And words could never spill from their mouths, for thoughts spoke louder. And footsteps could never be heard, for they had no need for shoes. And here, the faster you go, the better the air tastes, so they would all crack their windows, ignoring the cold, to let in the scent of evergreens. And the only hope was to be hopelessly lost. And they all timed their speed to be atop a mountain at sunrise. Every road seemed longer by night, and disappeared by day. And they would drive on dirt. And no one would ever slow down.
But no matter where you go, the sky always looks the same.