The everlasting wisdom perpetually transforms. It narrates unknown,
Uttering the verses of its love in winds and snows.

It rains and calms from day to day,
It ceases only in the summertime;
For a halt
Is also gay in its own way.

It will urge precipitations,
Warn us,
Coax us to beat in flocks.
While it never leaves a mark
On the azure dome,
For the ceiling is the face,
It has traces on the boiling rock,
Ancient earth,
And on my holey socks.

The holy "wisdom" is
Merely the way perceived
By me.
Solely an imaginary bliss.

Though the mind elevates,
Sublimes it. After, states
That the chemical occasional coition,
Which is way up high,
Bears all the answers,
To my weird childish whys.