Seen the dusk, seen the dawn.
Seen the day light, seen the dark night.
Clouds has passed by, seen the moon staggered.
Oh no! It is me, still swaying around.
Seen the spring go, seen the autumn come.
Seen the leaves fall, steping away from the gloom.
Seen it grow again, with the hope of prosperity.
It was not the perfect act of discernment.
Seen the birds fly, high into the sky.
Seen it fly, above a gush of water, accross the river.
It comes back to shelter, and traverse more.
No smell of culpability, is that a sense of purity?