All in a golden afternoon,

under the skies of cloudless blue.

I stare above, and through the clouds,

never seeing a more beautiful hue.

So I lie on the fresh green grass,

Pondering of what is beyond.

What is beyond the sky?

what is beyond the thick trees?

What is beyond the night sky, the soul?

So I lie on the fresh green grass and think.

I think of the dripping sap of the pines

I think of the...