Dull must be my soul
Numb must be my being
I am not moved much
By yonder trees leafing
By those birds cruising
By those clouds sailing
By those mountains motionless
By that girl on the bicycle
With her burgundy hair
And maybe a tattoo somewhere
I am lost in myself
In my own wit and wisdom
In my own memories
In my own longings
In my own romance with future
In my own distaste of the past
In my own world
Not colliding with this one
With its trees, birds, clouds, mountains
And the girl in burgundy hair.
Know Thyself 