Strands dance with the utmost coordinated imbalance. They’re bound by rhythm and are, yet, free-spirited. As I sip the green and sultry healer, coupled with the grand, golden glaze accompanying as my e-steamed guest, the heavenly haze they emit has me spelled to a cozy trance. They transform the dreary drapes’, drywalls’, and linen’s collective, dull scent into a passionately pungent one of a pirate paradise of collected relics, confiscated booty, and mounted documentation from territories conquered. As simple and humble as this tiny comfort is in this world of gargantuan horrors, “Green Forest Mist” never failed to make the end of the flattest and grayest workday animated and effervescent.
Let every vapor remain untamed. And, may every wisp cause you to reminisce on every blessing.
Don’t ever get caught up in the current state-of-you. Don’t forget every seemingly invincible beasts you ever slew. Never let the monsters make you untrue to yourself, for, each time they could only lunge and claw, you flew. Never acknowledge the wingless, who, because of you, can only gnash teeth and sulkily rue.