Tapering thoughts for a tapering soul. It can melt you from a haughty plight to the sand. To the stones I cry! And.. Billowing echoes they feign, alarmed.  I see them fish from the sky to us earthly dwellers; fixating on a screen we beseech. They must sit there it their lofty halves. I implore you, oh dishevelled one. Your mask is a lovely one. Yes, to that I will agree I am.  But what we must make of it in an undulating bough. Rolling and rolling down upon itself. To a brink that it may see again.

He doesn't know, but his will is strong enough to see. Unlike all the others. He has found himself, but not even he or I knows of what. He follows the hills and reaps all the tranquillity of the night. He is an ambiance. A force, and I will never know him. He is the wind and the still. He is the shadows and the light, the darkness and the colour of the day. Half happenstance did we meet. And half willingly do we greet.