Chasing Blue Sky

Chasing blue sky with the end of the world in the rear view mirror. Riding the storm like a cresting wave, poised between joy and despair as the light ahead fades, blown away by the tossing wind. The shadow green sky that creeps from behind is a haunting fear that is half desire. The desire to turn and face the fury, be swept up and tumbled down by the darkness. What keeps me flying from it towards that patch of tranquil blue, when tranquility is out of reach? There is a piercing pleasure in knowing that the storm will win, cannot be controled.

But there is power in the race.