Cloud: A feeling of deprivation overrides my so called frail heart.
Sky: I don't know how much longer I can stay in this dark night of the soul. Until morning comes with a cup of satisfaction, and breaths life into my nostrils of slumber.
Sky: Ohh slumber, where are you? It is here under the weeping willow tree. With winds blowing, blowing cold chills through my long, deprived hair.
Cloud: Yes, I can feel the fibers in the strands crying out for the warm hands. For it was then the slumber truly meant more than existence.
Sun: Slumber is when you truly live. When you let your imagination flow, like a creek flows through snow covered rocks. When you feel free from frightful functions.
Sun: How long can this day last? How long until fatigue finally pulls down the curtains over my eyes and brings me into this long lost slumber?
Cloud: What about feeling alive? Where is the life? Is it in the memories of monumental moments? Or does it reside in the dry lands of hardship?
Sky: The feelings of being alive reside in the moments where momentum pulls you over the rocks as if it were glass.
Cloud: Yes I need that touch of life. How does one revitalize their spirit when it has drowned in a bittersweet pleasure of death?
Sun: When all has crumbled, and light fades away. It always seems harder to climb than to let go and fall.
Cloud: ...Or to fail. I've fought and fought and fought a treacherous battle that has left me forgetting who I am. But in the atmoshpere is where I belong. The shadowing light will sustain my new born purity.
Sky: Failing is only when you don't get up. Let the winds of time blow you through till you are strong enough to stand. I will be here holding your hand. | 
