Coming from the highest and searching to the low. We found the colors of streams as dull, the highest peaks too cold, a thousand scenes, but no home. It's ungrateful when you invest all but a tenfold of your guarded soul and find nothing but roads that lead to nothing whole.
But a being, untamed, untainted, unbroken. Vibrance of a kind that only story's hope in. Broke through the boundaries of subconscious fantasy and refuses to be only a unrealistic possibility. The soliloquy of such intensity that, boundlessly, radiancy found a place to keep in every heart that beats.
But that wasn't enough for beauty. Even those cold in bed under feet of sediment would burst forth through the oceans to hear only a note, or so they said. This rhyme would only be jumbled verses if those worthless hadn't come to converse of the hearses they left to find what their hope could not deny.
Completely undeserving of anything but a equally peaceful dream, yet invades that which could never deserve such beauty. Intentionally and consistently the stories breath of a breathless being beyond the sea that stares straight into any dream and shows that nothing will ever be as it once seemed.
So we set out again. The hope for a world with nothing bland can foist the most unbelieving man into a frenzied purpose bent on finding a rumor once passed. But only something so grand could change a man and bring a need for home again.