In memory of Nicholas Currier who always pushed me to look further than what lay on the surface of life, may you live forever in spirit, friend of mine.
Sticks leaves and stones exist each on their own but do they observe the fields that they lie in for years tell me how they compile all he thoughts on their minds, is it from young to old that they fulfill their goals?
Where does all this thought process come from?
All these frames of mind I can't possibly describe
Clashing shades of you, how they harmonize in tune
And passing rays of light that congregate inside my mind