Crispyreaper

The ground flying past faster than the blink of an eye, my feet grazing the grass, causing flowers to burst into bloom with every pass. Mountains, far to the west, wonder what might be up there. The sun, hanging high in the heavens, casting Beautiful white light down on everything, but its not the harsh light of yesterday, but the soft, almost comforting sun of tomorrow. Its like a warm embrace given, not in fear, but in love, like one given to a long lost friend that you havent seen for a very long time. Hills, lazily going up and down like a calm sea start to form up ahead. With a burst of speed I race forward, the wind on the back of

How long had it been falling? Where did it come from exactly? Wise men said they were tiny Angel feathers that changed to water after they hit the ground. What utter nonsense. Everyone knew they were tiny pieces of the clouds, breaking apart after they had grown too heavy from all the wishes of childrew floating up to join all the other wishes. Because that is what clouds are made up of, childrens wishes. Why do you think it always starts pouring more towards christmas? But enough about that, I just wish it would stop already. Too much white, too much Blankness, the details of the world get blotted out in it all, and only abstract