Who can fathom the thoughts of the moon as it sit's in the sky on a hot afternoon?
Or the lovers quarrel of the sea on the shore? or a river who's banks have flooded the moor?
Or the voice of stars as they fall from the sky; do they laugh or do they cry?
Who can understand the mind of a dog, or the chicken or hen or the old barn hog?
Only the mind of a poet who thinks like a shroom,
Who breaths the fire of flowers without bloom.
Try this offer from natures boon.
Just relax and you'll understand soon.
Then take a walk through the woods and ask the trees,
for they have more secrets then they have leaves.
Jun 8, 2014
Jun 8, 2014 at 6:25 PM UTC
Who can fathom the thoughts of the moon as it sit's in the sky on a hot afternoon?
Or the lovers quarrel of the sea on the shore? or a river who's banks have flooded the moor?
Or the voice of stars as they fall from the sky; do they laugh or do they cry?
Who can understand the mind of a dog, or the chicken or hen or the old barn hog?
Only the mind of a poet who thinks like a shroom,
Who breaths the fire of flowers without bloom.
Try this offer from natures boon.
Just relax and you'll understand soon.
Then take a walk through the woods and ask the trees,
for they have more secrets then they have leaves.
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