A gust of wind kisses your hair, combing through it with the tenderest of touches. You swear you can hear harps of angels sing, even if part of you thinks its all make believe. It's another indescribable scene, mimicing whatever the beholder holds dear. Unity? Acceptance? Care? Your unsure but you feel it with your whole chest whatever you percieve. A state that cannot be achieved. It aches and burns, you were never meant to see this. And you know you cannot touch it.

A tear rolls down your cheek. It's so alluring yet unattainable.