Bloom is in season.
The birds sing for a reason.

The river's motion
Seems to have a notion
For every rock around the bend.

Mushrooms are smiling a tinge.

Not a thing is strange.
Infinity has no range.

Take a token.
The thing left unspoken:
What He thinks of Hymn.

The fields of time melt beneath my feet
And the rain is slightly sweet.

Dew of the divine drops
And gains back again.

Time is a loop of sorts,
Everything ends where it begins again.

Eternity is a moment
And it never ended again.

You know every drop ascends in

The End

Again.