November 13, 2011
These tall trees rock
By the will of the wind
As if they are a flock
Trying to lend
Their branches to the sky
And as the clouds float by
I wonder what is above
Is there nothing
Or is there something
These riddles in my head
Never end
Instead the riddles make riddles
It is a never ending curiosity
Of everyone
And everything
I have ever known
As it grows
And then shows
What it really knows.

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