That night there was no moon. If you looked up the sky went on forever. For any of this to make sense you have to understand that we are just little punks that are addicted to the beauty and magic of life. We've found beauty in ourselves, but only through each other, and in the magic places we've found around where we live. We were at the cliffs that night, which are situated above a lake. We were driven there by the terrible winds within us. The crying of our souls, they anger of our minds, the restlessness of our hearts. We took our inner wind out to this solitary place, on a lake, in the middle of nowhere. To scream. To shout. To call the wind. The real wind

To be quite honest, this is the first time, as a group, that we've done this. One or two of us have had the occasion, standing on top of a mountain, or a cathedral, to call. So the energy of the group was anxious and excited. We sat around for a while, singing each other showtunes. And, then we decided it was time. We gathered together. We talked about what we were screaming for. What we wanted blown away, and what we wanted to find underneath. And then we called.

That was two weeks ago, and it's still windy here. I know some of our questions have still been left unanswered, but there's hope. Tomorrow's going to be another windy day.

Log in or register to write something here or to contact authors.