Failed experiment.

These are smoke signals sent from way, way up above. A source of faith, a hint of trust, a wellspring of forgotten love. Or was it enduring? I've gone mad procuring the final element to cement this world in place. Too much in haste passes us by. Begone days and take this melancholy haze of misting with you. It was just wishing anyway on any well we happened to pass. The grass grows taller in another's yard where another farmer is in charge. Maybe their cattle have less lard than our own. But time has shown that we have grown out of small and thoughtless children into world weary earth searing shambles. If rambles upwards, onwards, outwards, on... Don't stop me with a tear-filled yawn. At least try to cry so we both know - just you and I - how much of a failure this experiment really was.