Open your eyes a little wider,
there's too much god damn beauty to quit.

Not the tree, not the wind
but the leaf that falls down on ground.

Not the house, nor the sun
but the shadow of the house and the old dog
hiding there from the summer heat.

A childs smal hand, holding your's
squeezing it,
feeling secure.

the marks of the erased words
off the poem
still visible on the paper.

The world is an illusion,

look aroud you,
it's a dream
and the whole world is inside it.
An illusion,
the only real thing
is you...