Each day must meet it's demise,
as the sun cyles through gracing us with it's setting,
 the moon watches over us as the sun slumbers,
but as the morrow rises so to does the sun,
with each new day; an endless possiblity spread at our feet...

As my mind races through it's own devices,
my thoughts are directed to certain events,
real or not real: it does not matter...
inside my head its all real...

whether it comes to pass no one knows.

Blessed with my ideas; passing my time as they swirl around;
a raging hurricane waiting to be released from its confines...
even in utter despair; this hurricane guides me through the moments...
however fleeting; these thoughbts are all I have left to call my own...