I swear the mountains were purple that day.
Endless land that ever goes,
From dawn way out to dusk.
The mists are shifting, ever drifting,
Hiding everything,
Except the mountain tops.
What’s in the mist?
What is so deep?

Madness...

When a drop of water fell from the engorging sky,
it dropped thousands of miles beneath.
A devious bequeath that upheld the tantrum,
the sky soared with anger until its utter collapse.
How I long for this pain to leave akin the December sky,
this imminent glory was only dreamed about in disguis.