maybe someday i will jump from the solid ground and you will find me no more. the wind has little preference for the direction it goes. maybe there will be some as yet undiscovered place that i will see, and find my way home from there, and then i'll be an adventurer. i always envied those who found america first... to cast yourself from all you know and find a new way must be a heady sensation.
and as i grow old and each memory of those unfound places crumbles with time the beautiful scraps left behind will have wonderful colors.
i will dip my finger in each pigment and caress the canvas.
and when i am gone, no one will miss me, for i will have left my dreams behind to be savored.
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