How many have had as much as a glimpse of this field, real or imagined?
I have imagined myself in this field and it felt exactly right. Free. Light. I have been there.
I consider myself lucky… but there is a dark current that rolls across my consciousness from time to time which drowns me. I sink in gurgling wet mud and cannot get over the fence and in at the long green grass. I strive to be in green. Water, water, for my dry throat. It’s only the world rattling at my cage. I want to pick a blade and make that glorious grass bugle sound. To be. To see. To understand. Oh Let me speak of things that have been buried in the muddy chest.