Storyteller

He tore all the leaves in the world, hoping to find a second step.
He steps forward to stare into deep beauty from a mountain.
He sees dim rays of orange and blue,

Transient beauty, lost in a delusional moment.

Rain drops on the cold grass and between his toes,
It was cold, and he could almost hear the wind.
But he could never be certain - maybe it was the spiralling motion of the flakes,
drifting away into the darkness, convincing him that sound was present as more than a ghost of the thoughts.
Maybe sound was an illusion, and all there was... was silence.

He said to himself with ease:
"If I could be the only one here forever,
I would be dreaming,
I can't bring the world here,
I can't bring the place to the world,
I can only bring a story of this place to the world."