[STREAM]
Driving past hills and mountains we’ve stood on.
My philosophy says we’re still standing there,
Gazing down, vaguely, at us.
We practically formed the rives that [□•□°●☆□] down.
And we meet back, together, whenever they end.
The burns are all in stream.
——
The burns are all in stream and,
The waves basket against the rock
THE SNOW-ing comes and melts. Down,
the mountain we stand on.
There is nothing I love more than living.
[FOREIGN HILLS / GLEN COE]
These mountains are beyond all depth
These lumps
Foreign hills I saw them coming
I spooled, I pealed and feel the fruits
of my dirty bare feet, encased.
(I made my way here)
Still [].’] surprised
In a tent, across history.
Tiny little baby steps, rocking so fluidly,
If I try to imagine my size.
Failed (duhuh)