Good health is recipient to rapture
Such infinitesimal pieces, so familiar to my mind
Like a child, catching snowflakes on the tongue
Within a weathering old man

He's just as cute, and you know it

Once and done, never to return
Yet you have the strangest feeling that you've been here before.

Dreamlike leaves reaching out to you, they're reaching out in all directions
You never had time to read them all
But you know it's not fake, you let the ones you left behind
Fall, captured by the wind
Enraptured with a girl
Caught up in her hair and then she's gone.

Did you dream you were a handsome man?
Looks can be deceiving.
But I still think you're handsome,
Though you might catch one of my rougher edges,
Peering through your periscope
From your bed
At the bottom of the sea

(Has it drifted far
From Pennsylvania?)

Or driving down the road...
Missed your blind spot!

(I'm omnidimensional)

Or some other desperate, hollow contrivance of reality.

!
I am filled with eclipsing forms
Plants and mushrooms and animals--
You are free to rummage through them
Maybe you'll find your purpose, or whatever they're calling it these days...
Maybe you'll find you're not the cause of all pollution and suffering after all
Or maybe you'll just really hope it's not like that...

Like I said: good health is recipient to rapture,
Stumbling angels, I tell you!
Pride is a sin and you might fit in.
They're running into each other and spilling plates of food,
All criss-crossing tethers turning children to hypocrites,
Wearing us threadbare,
Spinning absurdities and creating problems with no address!

But that beech tree still stands there,
Silver and --
Just looking at you like,
"Well, what the hell did I do?"

Anyway,

This is a relationship,
And it has been figured out on every point.
I know it kind of ruins it to say that.
But I'm still here and I've got things to do.
So, there's that.