Sitting; thinking over my self-made dread.
Could I aid those before I save my head?
Rays of serenity draw eyes from concern.
Thought retracts,
While my present youth attracts
To something that could heal my burn,
And the cold in my heart subtracts.

This figure so lax sunk deep in grass,
With a book in hand letting time pass.
Legs crossed like the butterflies near;
A good nest
For the tired book to rest.
And in the reader’s face: cheer
At what full words suggest.

This still child now visibly grown,
Frees me of want; nothing to own,
Except for my subconscious control.
Contradicting;
My two sides conflicting,
As I long to possess the pure whole,
And I notice my view is restricting.

This riddle once again self-made,
As I look at her, begins to fade.
The sun shines down from the sky.
What a sight!
Turn to me blue eyes bright;
A moment no person can ever buy,
And now in mind everything alright.

This answer leads to no longer my,
For in that we will all surely die,
But let it be; we have the world to share.
There sitting,
Pairs of liberal eyes committing.
Never again possession; now fully aware,
While others urge for everything unremitting.
They're sitting.