Today the sky is board. The clouds hint with subtle rays of anticipation and the air reeks of both failure and success. It is acrid but hopeful.
I'll play this storm at my back and use its force to drive me through... Saturday I'll enter with vitality and resolve. It's only eight more days now and the weather will clear.
These eyes will have to look further as hiding has grown obsolete. With full spread arms I greet the future beacsue I truly have no more abhorence, except for you; my desolate past. But you are a good friend and cloak me like the winter parka to which warmth does abide.
Tomorrow, don't forget, the clouds spread and feign celebration for just one day out of eight.
I cant get over that picture. really. its that awesome.