The landscape streaks by,
a slow shift from city streets to mountain passes.
There is a whole world for my eye to scry,
answers are hidden in grassy knoll not university classes.
You have to be stable like a tree,
a stalwart sensor of your surrounding
Find an equilibrium with the world and let your soul free.
You'd be careful not to pry,
whether among-st the sky or grasses
the world has ways to make you cry
but with time all pain passes.