so is life
I want a flower with passion. I want a flower like a muzzle flash. A burst of red and orange. I want a flower with a bloom of fire that explodes like war.
And the red-hot sun boiled the horizon as it sank into the sea, and a steam of clouds rose against a tangerine sky. Life is such a beautiful burden, and I will carry its weight to every setting sun, where the birds will carry me to the shoulders of giants -- and I will fear no more.
My fantasy: It's the perfect day: the sky is a blue of royalty, and clouds of towering majesty drift in the harmonic wake of divinity, a crisp breeze that arouses the senses to wonderlust. I'm walking down a dirt road, canopied by autumn's vibrancy, and leaves rustle in a dance of red, yellow, and orange to the cool wind that surrounds me. Small fingers wrap themselves in mine in complete confidence, and I look down as my five-year-old self looks up; he grins with a faith I have long since forgotten, and he says, "Everything is going to be O.K." And on that perfect day, how could it not?
And the red-hot sun boiled the horizon as it sank into the sea, and a steam of clouds rose against a tangerine sky. Life is such a beautiful burden, and I will carry its weight to every setting sun, where the birds will carry me to the shoulders of giants -- and I will fear no more.
My fantasy: It's the perfect day: the sky is a blue of royalty, and clouds of towering majesty drift in the harmonic wake of divinity, a crisp breeze that arouses the senses to wonderlust. I'm walking down a dirt road, canopied by autumn's vibrancy, and leaves rustle in a dance of red, yellow, and orange to the cool wind that surrounds me. Small fingers wrap themselves in mine in complete confidence, and I look down as my five-year-old self looks up; he grins with a faith I have long since forgotten, and he says, "Everything is going to be O.K." And on that perfect day, how could it not?