Here I am, waiting.

Looking out the window

I see what the world

Once was.

Hills and mountains,

Not parallel, no symmetry,

Not man-made,

Dull greens and brown

But natural.

See stripes of snow tumbling

Like tears


The hills.

The fog,

Not smog,

Tumbling around the rocky

Fingers pointing up into the heavens.

See the sheep feeding on grass roaming


Through the grey, opressive clouds

The sun

Breaks through

Showering a silky, pearlescent curtain of


Here I am, waiting

For my Future.

The End

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