a squirrel chasing a
squirrel up the tree
to climb the bark and have my home in the bough
to bury my nuts as a treasure in the ground
to swish my long bushy tail
and frolic with the autumn wind
a life of simple pleasuring

Can the entire ocean
all be swallowed by my eyes.
If I make it to the moon,
will I then feel left behind.
Is there an end to the world,
that is decided by time.
Will I see beauty so great,
that I truly must go blind.
At the end of the last road,
will at least all colors rhyme.
I fear the war will not stop,
these enemies in my mind.