The birds are chirping
Far off vehicles hooting
The sun goes sinking
Sitting on a stump
The brain goes wide
Questions come rushing
Who is what?
Where from that?
The brain continues to stride
On and on goes he; busy
Busy thinking a lot about what is not easy
Sitting still on the stump
Insects buzzing in the ear
Communicates their piece
This rather disturbs the peace
Of he who is pondering
Yet also wondering of something
that is perceived out of nothing
Yet demands another thing
This mystery once understood
Shall be the soul’s food
