Here we were with the passion of noon-sun burning deep through our eyes when we swam through the ocean of many tomorrows. And the mountain let you peer over the edge and see possibility. This made you cry. This made you remember what it felt like to care for things that could be lost. With the apathy you had bought a freedom that could come and go like a pretty wind or a harsh storm-either unexpected. This was the middle ground that grabbed your feet and caked them with mud that does let you leave the dessert you fell through the sky to land on. So while I looked at the mirages and dreamed of the ocean, I rocked back and forth until the waves put me to a sunny sleep. But in the sleep I dreamed about the forest with the trees that looked on me with wise willow smiles and held me like a child. In the nook of nature’s eldest arms I could just stare at the clouds. The clouds.