The skies are blue
The grass is green
I am sure you think like this about the air
Too, in your dreams

Or when you hear the birds
Chirp on a lonely branch
Only one thought remains
To be with them in the essence

Of every second
There is a cadence of the heart
In every that bird sings
That is what is pure art

When the fire dances
As the water sings
You cannot follow your chances
Just fiddle with your hair as if it is a dream