Wu Wei, please.

Oh I may lie here across the ground, and beneath me the bones of the earth are holding strong, just like they were meant to. And the sun creeps across the sky and it feels raging and wild on my bare skin. But my hands want to hold things, and my mind wants to reach out and grab onto what it sees, to control the heavens. Grass tickles my nose. I can't help but smell purple flowers dotting the field, and still the mind... thoughts. Thinking is creating things that don't exist, new things to possess or mourn. Somewhere I hear water doing whatever it's doing. I doubt it wonders where it's going.