I feel as if my life hangs by a thread. Above me, the obsidian skyline predicts a storm. Below, ice cracks like shattered glass and rivers run dry. I thought forever really meant forever. But it seems that sweet moments are fleeting as the wind. "Please come back," I said with silvered teardrops. In your absence, will the sea turn a deeper blue or completely fade away? Rain: how soothing the sound, how softly it runneth through your hair coming and leaving silently, it washes the traces of your past from your face for you, it is a new beginning, it is beauty redefined, it is the stuff that Life is made of