Me

The wind that blows in from the ocean is attached in many ways to the movement of life, laughter, energy, and thought. My mind sways as if something had given it room to move. I mask the mirror image with the swift disappearance of my mental state. These lost thoughts, past participle involvement that can never touch or be heard. Why mustn't we take on such power? What language can we use to decipher the vision and purpose of others? There is none and it has not be created. Living in a silent world because of the lack of malignant life. Move forward, and side to side, as if you were the breeze coming off the ocean.