The greatest move I could ever make is to just move. Let my feet be the wind that blows me in the clouds stuffed full of my plans, plans that I plan to rain down on the canvas of life, bleeding it's fabric with the bright side of strife. Plans I've had since I first shot them to the sky when I was aware that I could dream, which was around the age of 6 going on 16. Tucked tight between the threads of my sheets with no religion I planned not prayed, but either way God heard it the same because I'm still planning and someone is still listening.