I realize it’s so natural not to think
That at times I start laughing to myself,
I don’t know what at, but it’s some chose or coisa,
About the fact that people think…
What will my wall think of my shadow?
I ask myself at times till it dawns on me that
I’m asking myself questions…
And then I feel out of sorts, and awkward,
As if I’d let my foot go to sleep…
What will this one think of that one?
Nothing thinks nothing.
Is the earth conscious of the stones and plants on it?
If it is, that it is…
What’s it to do with me?
If I were to think on these things
I’d stop seeing trees and plants
I wouldn’t even see the earth
but just my thoughts…
getting glum and dwelling in darkness.
And yet, without thinking: I have Earth and Sky.