Breathe

By Frank Illo
June, 2008

White mountains form above the clouds as we work our way east at 30,000 feet.
I think of my old man. Old, long before his time, his arms thin and bruised, his wind short and spirit frail.
I also think of how fast time flies and how we will all someday leave here.
From where I stand, more days lay in my shadow than stand before me.
The sun has begun to set and the mountains appear more dramatic now, they take on a warm glow and have far more depth and dimension.
Rich men dart by very quickly. Lines are drawn in the sand.
Diamonds are forever, but my sunrise is a limited engagement.
It is everywhere, seek beauty.
Breathe Life.