There is an open field in that we lie,

basking in the clean air of denial.

Winds sweep our emotions. Wondering why

we settle in a cove, a sheltered soul.

Scream across glistening open meadows

feel the abrasive roots of harvest pull

upon our spirit, weak, human fear glows.

Waiting to ignite, with hopes we fulfill

real dreams reaching open grains to caress

the soil, the natural dirt being

that foundation, security, God bless

the ill of mind who hide in their dwelling.

While caverns exist to shadow sweet loss

Reach beyond our dreams, is our albatross.