Fall.

Fall.

It lays on the tip of the tongue, formulated within the chambers of one's mind, skimming down to one's throat, and out one's lips. Words fall into the ears they were designated to fall upon. They differ upon occasion, and differ upon which tone is used; if we factor the beauty of the language which was used. We find our self spellbound, fallen, and enticed by a string of compound letters and sounds.They linger and sting, seduce and enchant; floating like wisps of dust. Clouding minds, blinding eyes, the glare and stare directly into the void. Immortal, survivors of great tragedies. Victors of battles, seducers of the soul, they fall and rise without any effort; having no end date and marking time like no other. Evolving and growing, creating and destroying, improving while exploiting. Abused and used, all the same; no borders, no enforcement can halt them. The simply swim into world, regardless of it's turmoils or circumstances. Without navigation but full of purpose they make their impact, shaping themselves like the envoys they are. Take everything, and leaving nothing behind but that of an impression. Like a hand print on a fogged glass, a boot on snow, a footprint on the sand. Impressions which linger and taunt the untrained mind and eyes, nevertheless they fall. Marking the initial and final descension.