It's dusty and abstract,
the outside to the eyes.
The people, the places,
the styles, the minds;
the world isn't plaid,
it's ringed and it's crystal
made of a path that goes fireside
where there is light and there is color;
where the sounds blend together
and a binaural beat
brings a shoulder to a cheek
and kisses to knees;
they find freckles in the peace
"look, it's you and it's me."