Soul Storm Best

As the dirt layered streets of all mans toil, are gently swept by rain. And all earths masses huddle under awnings, wishing the storm would wane. A solitary man walks down the street, seemingly unaware. Seeing the people huddled in masses, wanting to laugh does he dare? The future of man, he asks with a smile, is that what your worried about? The future is clear for those who believe, nonexistent for those who doubt.