Inner Portal

Turning my mind to countless things Then back again where it begins The restless urge and all It brings To be someone, To do something and When all my thoughts are exhausted I slip into the woods and gather The flowers around Like the little stream making its way Through the deep crevices I too quietly turn clear and transparent To see the singing of quail and the fragrance of blossoms Left behind are traces of my dream and a butterfly through a flower field Canvas: 3000*4000