Ramblings

Alone, I stand
Looking ahead, and back
Trails travelled and unknown.

Behind are the woods - wistful, grateful, sorrowful
Can't just leave them behind, can I?

And yet, the sky ahead is turquoise.
A blissful wind slaps my cheeks,
the sun burns me a rich brown.
It stings... and feels alive.

What is it at the horizon?
A gathering storm, I must say,
as I get drawn towards its.
Crazy?

Ah... yes. Passion is crazy.
Being alive is being crazy.
Being happy is being crazy.
I laugh, and move ahead
as the tear drops behind...