My friends are all in the sky. They walk on clouds while I tread on stone. They see the sun rise while I wait for it to set, giving me relief from its heat. They enjoy warm spring breezes while I labor under hot gusts of wind. They live in a world of majesty. I live in a world of misery. We breathe the same air. We see the same sky. But above the clouds, those things are not precious. They are taken for granted. I long for the silver mist of peace that floats over the soft cream-colored hills as the golden sun rises. I experience the dark smoky gray haze smothering the dust-colored fields as a white orb comes to rest in a colorless sky. They harvest the diamond-like stars, leaving me with a gray-black horizon. They absorb the light of the moon, leaving me with a gleaming sliver of hope. One day, I will join them. But until then, they save a bit of paradise, just for me.

I will wait for eternity.