The air is thin; breaths come as gifts.
The height exhilarates the mind, with a steady footing I pounder what is beyond.
Wandering soft solemn plains, high purple peaks; my eyes search like a hawk.
Terracotta comforts to metal abodes.
Lenient autumn trinkets glow upon extended slender vegetation; red, blond, ginger, jade. The sweet vivid colorations are camouflage, the seasons a chameleon.
No place has what I do: bright hues, soft blues.
Radiant heat smiles down upon easy earth tones, unifying through the haze.
Unfriendly wind blows in clouds of grey, but I know it will be okay.
Hostile water pours through streets, overflows gutters, then melts into grime. I still have faith, no matter what, after rain there comes a rainbow.
We dance in the moisture, bright prisms are our partner. We tangle in knots as the rain we joins us.
Nowhere has what I do, No one sees what I do; unappreciated beauty.
Obscure asphalt scrapes the soles of my leather boots, rocks scatter from the path.
As I touch my journey's end I still keep my head high, at the end of the day I still know I can fly. After you leave one exit, you can always go through an entrance.
At the fights close, I whisper with courage. The light that gives me life cascades below the edge, as it does it gives me faith. Brilliant tones flash across the atmosphere, watermelon clouds mingle with lavender haze in the azure sky.
No one has what I do, no place has what I do; an indefinite beginning.