I choose to fall
through misty...

I can still hear them,
I can still feel their ice cold touch...

"Beauty is truth, truth beauty"
--John Keats "Ode to a Nightingale&quot...

Don't ever be afraid
to come to me and cry...

This misery is so routine
It is so ordinary...

They were scattering
Dark, cold roses...

Silent joy whispers
through the morning...

Babbling brook
Clear as can be...

Flower petals touch the ground
Silently falling without a sound...

Shall I tell thee of the soft, quiet rain?
That comes in the mist covering the land...

The morning sun thrust
his flaming arms...

A glowing blue stream flashes in the sky
A twisting tunnel of wind...