Little piece of paradise

Nowhere near the stars
Walking upside down on clouds
You can't call that wisdom
Losing gravity the sickly feeling of falling

Into the little piece of paradise you clean your eyes with
into the perception of somewhere fresh and sacred
Chosen by the sun and rain
Chosen by your vivid imagination

No you can't call me wise as I crawl vertically up a cliff
Ready to vomit
Roofs peel off houses and head toward the skies
Pictures of you accumulating before you lose the camera

Nowhere near the stars
Or the high mount on which the elder preaches
No wisdom or even sense in this mind
My brain a motor burning on thought

Burning on wonder
Challenge it all with the "why"
And not with the "if"
For if you doubt it was real, it was always false

Falling toward the heavens as gravity betrays us
I'm sad you had to find out this way I'm no wise man!