Where do i go,
Send to the sun to kiss the moon,
Mornings and evenings coming to soon,
The splash of the spring with rustling leaves,
A gentle cascade of sun through trees,
Trickle down to wash over me,
Brilliant streams that float with debris,
Those simple truths astonish me,
A crippling wound a dying fiend,
The blood that creeps down,
Flows inside the tree,
And back we go to the birds and the leaves,
Around again to circle back,
Yet every time is new again.