surfing the surface of the sun I seem to have seen the somber
kaleidoscopic butterflies brushed by the taste of metallic fantasies.

grazing the grasp of the grass I have gotten a glimpse
venomous ants accepting the fact they are no longer ample amidst my anchors.

containing the crowds of clouds I have caught a concert
deceiving pigeons peeping their precious pasts as they pull towards my parchment.

Who could weather they ways I write whilst weeping at the wondrous woe's of nature?