Observing my path, day by day. You would shake the head that was given, and pity me? The beaten path breeds steady thought placed beside outside change. The simpleton is not consumed with the pursuit of food for the mind. One should never apologize, or forgive. If neither is accepted, or received, thought will smooth the other, like a gel, slowly finding the lowest point. Given it's own supply, rising above the objects. A slightly curved surface ungulates above. Faces appear in the field of long grass, and the layer of wet snow above. Shrews tunnel beneath the surface and die, the cold kills their youth before they have a chance.