As I focus my gaze beyond autumn's red and orange trees
I'm taken aback by the forrest's vitality
I don't even care to pinpoint the sound of rustling leaves
Because I cannot stop myself from questioning the role I contribute to this scenery.

How does this landscape even look through a set of prying eyes so soiled and unclean?
Where shall I take my place within this tainted scene?
Surely our God of nature wouldn’t paint so intrepidly?
Nevertheless, here I go again, making love to memories.