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The stream was one He lingered with the gentleness of a kite Breeze and push, and skirted with just a hand in front of him measuring and feeling the wind, as toes would feel an incorrectness against a stone. That high feeling of being bound out too, just like all those things one believes in. It was good to be walking nude, and going out on his way with nature around did make him be happy. But for youth, so much memory; so close to birth with so many things of life that still only happened once. Green and growth making soft the image shapes; but then his mind would cut into the forest floor being rugged with unreflected animal fur. The design of some of his thoughts that the past shot back out to him was not necessarily per- plexing, but was becoming increasingly astonishing. Yet he had a sense of the good son, and in this sensation fantasy welled sometimes with fears. At times he would be surefootedly in fantasy and naturally laugh- ing, but then would seep back that mind governed to a so called necessary belief of plunder being accomplish- ment and the flower bringing failure. He knew that the white mans soul came from rocks, (and he laughed think- ing of the saying about Peter). The stones rallied water. Most of the time he was bound to think, but pin point circles turns of water, or move- ment of animal quite so in watch of him before any act- ion taking place, would flash him into peace. He would feel absolutely there, and when he returned to what his voices called waking up he knew that real enough was an threat of hatred ready to clash hope the arrival of always "So old, I mean peoples had seen and thought this and nothing else" Thinking about women through the projected picture of imagination "Not knowing what your doing is a crime on earth, you know, I don't know what I am doing. I see structures that were built to stop stars. And I know that this does not exist. Very confusing. Hahah, I just don't think anything can outlast the Universe. I remember now that it is past, and back behind the prehistoric. As the sub- sidized jester I have rambled. Not in what is said to be a pleasant way, but in other ways I sing very much and grin. I have forgotten coming to the decision of going