Pouring my thoughts

On the soul of a tree,

Calms down the turmoil inside me,

of the swirling galaxies.

The river never stride straight,

when it flows from my lips.

While the rain showers right in the forest,

making it an easier choice for me to pick.

And they ask, what use is a bunch of sheets?

Oh! But how do I tell them?

That when no one's around

Pen and paper are my only friends.