There is an innocence about it
A sensation which slightly glows
And illuminates, the half of it
But does not act out of cluelessness
Or carelessness

No, it's a state of care free thoughtfulness
In which this kind of being exists

It hates the plow
It hates the system
It simply is
It simply lives

It connects itself to many things
And many people
With a genuine and expressive tone
And an innate sweetness inside of it

And when this sensation sleeps
The small corners of the world as they are
In one way or another
Are at peace

And when I am near
It is the same as when I am not
Behaving with steadfastness

And as it listens quietly
It puts me at ease
As I see it now, for what it is, in its innocence

And when given the opportunity to speak
I care for it
And yet, I cannot understand it's simplicity

In sight
It is a twist of hair in the seamless breeze
How it wavers without want or will

It simply is
A mess, yet controlled
And always in its own way, and by its own will

Deep water can be cold and treacherous
But shallow water can break, be seen and is warm
I love the water, but not like this
And not to submerge
That's not for me

Though these purveyors of sensation are incredibly
Unimaginably sweet