There is a feeling that washes over me like a dry wind through the foothills bringing a hint of a distant fire. Independence is a worn ideal based on might and threat, bombs, bursting in air to bring fear. That once distant fire is now ubiquitous, burning in the hearts of the many yet never consuming the desire. Freedom is a tattered belief, held before multinational corporations dealt in the dependence of all for one. There is a feeling that washes over me, that only with change can freedom come like a summer rain that carries no threats. Cooperation is a missing component of many foreign affairs in disarray with the foolish notion of control. The rockets red glare is frightening, making the dog run under the bed and the cat wisely hide in the shadows. Peace is deemed a futile hope unless the thought of war remains in the consciousness of the poor. There is a feeling that washes over me, perhaps bringing the winds of change if we choose to declare Interdependence.