A Billion Burning Dreams

I take pride in her assertion. Wear it like a badge of honor on a Boy Scout heart. A collection of merits not-yet mastered. Still missing the one for commitment. Maybe the thunder we hear are mere cries of agony. Rain, an offering of lacrimation: Here. Grow something from this. The irony is that the eye is always calm, because the rest of the storm is crying. Traversing the sky searching for answers to the questions it cannot articulate. Do not wait for me. The sky is vast and clouds collect like memories that will surely fade with time. Their sweetness, hidden beneath a rind of firmament whose bitterness

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