Across the sky, you see a beauty transfixing. Nothing too amazing, yet backed by the purple skies and the distant lightning, it seems to you a wondrous spectacle. This area around you, complete with barren wasteland, seems almost not to match what your eyes confirm they see. What lies before you is a stretch of silver, a glint of gold. The empty breeze sways the flimsy gauze before your eyes. A musky aroma scents the atmosphere, drawing you in to the texture it present, a touch of silk. You feel a soft breath of wisps, lighter than anything you've ever known, brush your elbow in a sublime manner.

As you take a moment to inhale this sensation, the wind whips past you in a swirling frenzy. You look up suddenly to find that what you stare so openly at is now gazing back at you. Struck by this sudden shock, you turn away, not from embarrassment, you swear, but because it was unexpected. He laughs, amused by your plight. For a second, a melancholy sigh runs through you. Yet, never does it pass your lips, for you realize that he doesn't mean the hurtful sound, that he only wishes to protect his reputation. He's always doing this, covering for his kind heart with cold eyes and sadistic humor.

But you don't care about that. All that matters is that he is standing right there, so why cower? You turn back, prepared to face him, but he is gone. Off in the distance, as you watch the tail whip around him, you catch on wind, "Come on! What are you standing there for?" You can hear the toothy grin in every syllable. You smirk, knowing he is right, once again. You both have things to do, people to find, priceless items to pore over and praise. Many a pressing issue is at hand. For a moment, time was standing still. For those few glorious second, the world could wait. But now, it is back to the life you lead, the life you know, the life that, all things considered, you love.

So, you run off to join him. Neither of you know where the other is going, but, inevitably, it will lead to the same place, for you each follow the other's guideless paths. You follow the lightning that strikes without rain, piercing the sky miles ahead of you. You seek to find more objects of admiration, but know, wholeheartedly, that the most gorgeous, supreme of all of them, will be the one you gazed at only moments ago. You continue running to that unknown destination that has but one fixed point. It is always just past the tangible, barely out of reach; always it will be just outside the bounds of possibility, just beyond the horizon.