The Meadow

The crest upon the meadow yields, the calls of nature. Animal’s sounds muting those sounds of our forgotten departure. Burning those grounds extinguishing the hounds howling at the vials of our embarkations into a disaster. Sailing free beneath our reasons. I see believing in the dreaming of those grounds. Our souls hounding beyond those beliefs of today and yesterday. Hoping again, the optimism will help us find a way…scrolling and unfolding like relics in a thick book. Pages and ages rolled tightly and turning like a knife cutting years off time. Spreading our wings until they converge…and flying safely home…breaking the rules. Someone said, you have to attune…to the many feelings we like to resume. We’re fighting the ocean before we’re consumed. It’s just another flood of emotions to include.

On the meadow, I don’t fear the calling. I sit down on the green grass…until I’m revealed…in the sun, the moon, the clouds, the rain, the wind, the feeling of…I’m exempt from them.

On the meadow, the nature calls. Loud sounds to mute my cause. You’re okay, I’m just crazy in a way…trying hard to get through every day…I don’t care what you say. I’m just venting anyway.

The crest upon the meadow yields the calls of nature; it’s just how I feel today. It’s how I feel…today. Don’t care anyway. Just another day…to feel this way…that’s all I’m gonna say today.