Blow, wind blow. Blow the red cap off the blonde head!

Feli, it's only natural that this follows, (*grins)

Part I

It's only when tragedy happens that you realize how fragile life can be; that the saying, 'Live life like there's no tomorrow, live and let live' seems especially raw and true. As much as we try to kid ourselves into thinking that "Yeah man, from this moment forth, I shall live by that rule," it's so easy to forget.
So easy. So, so easy.

So people who always harbor a secret wish to have delicious, exciting lives would think, Shit. The only think that is permanent is death.

Death that comes as swift and as blithe as a gust of wind that blows out of nowhere.
From the east? North? South? Northwest?

Blow, blow away.
Goodbye.

And panic would set in, what if there is no tomorrow? Would I be truly happy with my time here on earth? Have a had enough? Have I lived enough, sing enough, love enough.
Enough. Enough.
When is enough?

We ponder about life's purpose, our journeys, our thoughts, our regrets, our years.
The old think about the past; what they would have done differently. The young think about their future; whether it would be there for them to grasp.
Or would it slip away into the nothingness of non-existence.

We wished for our lives to be beacons of hope, of light that illuminates, worthy of the gift that is life. For it is a gift, not ours to begin with. Never ours, never ours.

We dream, we cry, we laugh, we doubt, we think, scream, curse, and think again.
We run, we fall, we jump so high and drop so low.
We despair that life's unfair.

And yet the respiratory system worked for a breath.

Exhale. And it starts again.

We breathe again.

Till the last breath, we shall breathe.
Oh yes, my dear.
The air is that sweet.