With every inhalation, I taste it on my tongue. I open my mouth, waywardly, hold my pencil, expectantly, trying, to no avail, to place this word to this feeling. No adjective could respectably conjoin these two pieces of the puzzle together in my mind. The wind plays across my face, whispering tinted lies expertly spoken with a silver tongue into my ear. The words of God, and the wind is the arbiter on His behalf. The sheer bliss of the lonesome howls of nature. Bewitched, intoxicated, dispondent: The wind could hold all these characteristics. But, yea, not one word. One word to illustrate an appropriate, lovely sculpture on the blank canvas of the recesses of my mind. This one word, illusive to my lips. It makes me doubtful; doubtful that I am lulled so by such an invisible force. That I believe in, love, something that my eyes have not affirmed. So, I sit, opening my mouth, waywardly, holding my pencil, expectantly, trying, to no avail, to place this feeling with a word. Trust, gloom, faith, love. I believe the correct term is LIFE.