There's freedom in his blood Coursing through his veins

Moved to move mountains they said about him Them with a holy grin

Life is one cycle of the sun Rising and setting

In the Fog

Sometimes I pretend you're gone I don't know why I do it; maybe just to see what it really feels like to let myself go.

How we long for the days of sitting in the summer breeze with the warmth of the sun like a blanket on our skin. We grow up quickly, yet adulthood tells us to forget the important things in life. Early...

Slowly peering through his sun-dried, sand-cracked eyelids, he sees the sun. Coughing violently he vomits sea water and rum as he bats the salty air away from his nostrils.

A statue in a drifting snowfall, she topples to the ground Facing the heavens, she feels the snow soaking through her coat

Hair blowing in the warm breeze Like a lions mane in the setting sun

She disappears swiftly like a candle flame in a gentle breeze. Drifting up and vanishing slowly into the atmosphere.

Smashing vehemently into the ancient-oak bow, and growing larger with every second that passes, the waves-- ominous and looming, climb higher and higher. Stories-of-old fill the salty air as the deck...