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As I gaze upon the presence of the subdued gay clouds, momentary ideals present themselves in the forms of infatuations. More importantly, the fixations of my true desires, dried, shriveled pallets of a soul that you successfully molded. I can't help but smile under my private umbrella of eucalyptus, that this is the last pull with you. To know that in the next exhale of your fleeting grey, back to the red mud you will lie. And it is I who is caught in a bewildering journey of hiraeth - forced into unimaginable earthly entanglements of gross proportions. Even in the upholds of love and exploration, the eagerness of departation for a slight lottery in the recognizable will forever be my genuine desire.