Not that our destination matters anyway
So many times, we’ve been lead astray
I don’t mind being devoured by this curious place
Watching your finger as it’s tracing the words
Of the book in your lap, so entertained
In the soil, your pants are already stained
There’s the heavenly singing of birds
And the wind and the trees are whispering
In the sunbeams we bathe, in a golden hue
I look at you – are you in awe too?
Do you, too, find this place bewildering?
Violent and cold, yet placid and warm
Every gust of wind slowly sways the ground
In between these breaths, my mind is unwound
We find ourselves in the eye of a storm
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