My bed is beautiful and kind
Most things are kind
They want to be kind

The trees don't chose specifics to whom they give their oxygen

The trees are kind and I love them

I understand how at a time people would pray to these trees

That might not have been the worst of times

I wonder if I would have been one of them

I wish to be taken to the time in which my human mind and soul would be less confused

Where the dimensions match up

Because I love everything here and I just don't know how to know that all the time