When Grey Fades to White

One Stop to Ireland

I see unicorns and volcanic eruptions and I'd like to think that they were not mere figments of imagination.

I see houses and rundown sports fields and I'd like to think that they matter, in the grand scheme of things at least.

But then I remember - with a moment's quickest breath, it could all be pinched out of existence.

All that is good cannot last. At least not here.

Out of all the places I've been and all the places I hope to be, none can compare to the perfect peace that awaits.