Picking up wind, picking up trash.

Sliding past and slipping fast

Bits of dirt and blades of grass

Are sticking to my sides and back.

The goal is to leave without being left

Or was it to touch without being felt?

To move right through, and remain unstained

Or to catch every particle in my way.

Try I might, to stay the same

The nature of life is constant change.

Pure and simple, I’ve arrived

And I’m still coming, all my life.

Should I touch you, I need you to feel me

Let me pass right through, and leave my stains.

The pure and simple is never forever.

The nature of life is constant change.