In dreams and whispers, on summer breezes and ocean waves, by fire, by night, at the first taste of spring in the air…I have had those nightly visions, with hushed voice asked questions I could hardly speak, felt it hot against my face, heard its roar, shivered under starlight while the embers glowed, breathed its unmistakable fragrance under snow topped hills, yet it is something I cannot tell. It escapes words. I fear it and love it. It makes me run, but whether I am running toward it or away, I may never know. I always find it again.
Running
Tale Told 