I take his hand, and he leads me unto the unknown.
Right past the colorful flowers and green pasture I have grown so used to.
Right past the swing that hangs from the oak tree.
Right through the monotony it becomes to live in a Country Club.
Rushing through it like a businessman who is late for an important meeting.
Rushing because life as I know it is too dull, too restrictive, too black or white.
But still… rushing. And I hold on tight.
I have no idea where we are headed, but the pasture is not angelically green.
It is dark. The dark that invites you to roll in it butt-naked,
to arch your back and let out a moan.
The sky is not azure. It is different shades of gray that makes everything beneath it look exotic.
The air is not as fresh. It is sultry. There’s something wicked about it.
Nevertheless, I hold his hand.
I trust his ways. I believe he knows better.
Picture taken from: Tanzdreamer