Youth runs through a green forest, fresh-faced, barefooted and unenlightened. Birds trickle in the not-so-distant distance watching with eyes not indifferent.
What is it about youth? That something vital — something not yet lost; the glimmer of the unseen stretching in every direction.
Youth stops short, looking up and sun breaks through the leaves and branches dousing him in light.
What is it about youth? So possible, so unsure, so waiting to be broken, crack and shed that hefty husk of youth and watch it fall away.
Youth sets off again, the future ahead, the past behind, the undergrowth thrashing and whipping at him as he charges through the lush, crumbling wasteland.
What is it about youth? That something glowing, growing in the blackness of the future, just out of reach.