Pirate gypsy wayfaring soul.
There is something about gentle morning rain that makes me think about life and choices and life's choices.
The more I try to define You, the less I know.
The pieces are starting to come back together again, but they still like to tumble around, bouncing on the walls, doing somersaults. Like a child who can't get enough, can't even stop. Coeur d'enfant. Coeur de pirate. Take what you can, rummage around, find what's lost, and bring it back again. But above all else, just keep going.
Now bring me that horizon.
Bring me my horizon.