He wondered why he was stuck in the unknown, but new it was the mystery that seemed to drive the illusion inside.

The continuous roll of the quivering wind breaks from all the chills that fills his stomach within.

For he felt the draw through the strings that have been placed along the waiting list.

The blank page that was placed in front of an already ripped abyss with nothing but the stains from the open wounds.

The scars and bruises fade with the blending of the suns glow.

Her glow which punctured her own barrier of comfortability pushes her away from the unexplored circumstances.

The question still remains of the time and space at which they collide through space and time.

The irrelavence or misconception of this is what pushes gravity down not up.

The things that matter most are usually gone unsaid, creating the space in return stealing the time.

This is what makes it all relevant not in grey but Black and White.

There are two ways to life the rest is just a haze amongst a strawberry cloud.