It is Autumn in the middle of the Rocky mountains in a wooded area somewhere in your isolated cabin away from everyone as the tea kettle steam escapes with a piercing noise and you pour yourself a warm cup and look out the window at the natural landscape of falling orange leaves and cloudy skies, the walls and fireplace trapping the heat inside from escaping and disappearing into the cold and the warm glow from the cup blankets your face as you take a sip. A chill stream of water flows besides your home as three raccoons make a treacherous journey across. They walk shakily across a flooded rock before fully plunging in, their heads barely above the surface as the land falls beneath them. They paddle and paddle with a quickness and flurry, almost being swept away by the current, but they do not look worried, they are determined, instinctual. They are successful. You look at them in memory. You walk to a chair on the other side of the room and stare out a different window, the land a short distance away banking to the right between two small mountains covered in rock and tree. The valley is old and the sound of wind rushes through it, of hollow, aged screams escaping from below the earth, begging for acknowledgement. You want peace, but the guilt of potential ignorance is overwhelming. Is this progress or stagnation?

Lying on hot asphalt highway stretching into the horizon in the middle of Utah desert, the road is empty for miles. Your ancestry is from Thailand yet you have no personal ties, you’ve never visited and you’ve grown up your entire life in America. You feel a lack of identity but at the same time feel unreversably affected by America, American culture, values, traditions, all buried in your subconscious, collective unconscious. You love the landscape, you admire its vastness, you wtithe on the ground in conflictions and try to hug the ground, hug the American land, you want to thank it as there is no removing this part of yourself now, it’s a personal connection, but the ground also burns you. You look up at the sky and are hypnotized by the white clouds and blue sky above, gently flowing, stretching like an endless ocean, one you’ve never seen. Suddenly a WHOOSH flies over you. Some kind of cargo truck. It’s high enough to miss you, not skidding your body and skin against the concrete, ripping and tearing and burning, bleeding, crying. You are uninjured. You quickly rush to the side of the road and stare on. The road is empty for miles again. Sound is muffled as you hyperventilate. You feel regret, feeling as of for now an unfulfilled life, a failure, without accomplishment or stable goal, shaking. You walk home. Visions of the truck flying over head replay in your mind incessantly with more violent alternatives as you lie in bed. The landscape outside is now dark. You try to sleep.

when yiuew hiding in the batghroom from the school shooter and then the autistic kid takes a ♥♥♥♥ and the splash from the poop aleters the shooter abd the autistic kid delcades communism before you die

Who knows where the road may
lead us, only the fool would say
Who knows if we'll meet along the
way
Follow the brightest star as far
as the brave may dare
What will we find when we get
there
La Sagrada Familia we pray the
storm will soon be over
La Sagrada Familia for the lion
and the lamb
Who knows where the winds may
blow us, only a fool would say
Who knows if we'll ever reach the
shore
Follow a rising sun with eyes that
may only stare
What kind of fire will burn us
there? What kind of fire?
Only a fool would say
La Sagrada Familia the wind has
changed the storm is over
La Sagrada Familia for the lion
and the lamb
La Sagrada Familia we thank the
Lord the danger's over
La Sagrada Familia there's peace
throughout the land
Under clear blue skies our voices
rise in songs of glory
And for all those years our eyes
and ears were filled with tears
Who knows where the world may
turn us, only a fool would say
Who knows what the fate may
have in store
Follow the light of truth as far
as our eyes can see
How should we knows where that
may be? How should we know?
Then the angry skies, the battle
cries, the sounds of glory
And for all those years out eyes
and ears were filled with tears
Who knows where the road may
lead us, only a fool would say
Who knows what's been lost
along the way
Look for the promised land in all
of the dreams we share
How will we know when we are
there? How will we know?
Only a fool would say
La Sagrada Familia the war is won
the battle's over
La Sagrada Familia for the lion
and the lamb
La Sagrada Familia we thank the
lord the danger's over
La Sagrada Familia behold the
mighty hand
La Sagrada Familia the night is
gone the waiting's over
La Sagrada Familia there's peace
throughout the land
Until the next time
Until the next time
La Sagrada Familia

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