I have walked these fields
I have known this land
And though the years have changed the face
The memory still stands
Of a time when things were simpler
Of a time when hope was pure
Of a time when changing weather
Was all of which we were unsure
And I have seen the sun rise
Over fields of green and gold
Now that view is just a memory
And I know I'm getting old
Can it be that earth is failing?
Can it be that light has dimmed?
Can it be that we've abandoned
all the life that we once lived?
Is it any wonder
that our children can't get over
just the smallest of infractions
when the world falls all around them?
For constancy is foreign
in a land of no intentions
where a lost appreciation
for sacredness of life abounds.
I cannot pretend
To understand it all
For as often as I wonder
Equal am I inclined to fall
For I am of a generation
Which forgets itself began,
Wanders aimlessly through atmosphere
And defiles its fellow man
And over weakness, few have triumphed;
Through affliction, few have prevailed
And reverence for creation
Is an instinct we have failed
But our days are not yet over
For this one hope stands unmoved:
We are still formed of the same dust
Whose strength our ancestry has proved.
Is there any remnant
of the spirit deep within us
that might once again remember
the great faith we once achieved?
There is far greater meaning
found in one hopeful sentiment
than in a thousand shouting voices
denying all things once believed.
Jan 15, 2014
Jan 15, 2014 at 10:56 AM UTC
I have walked these fields
I have known this land
And though the years have changed the face
The memory still stands
Of a time when things were simpler
Of a time when hope was pure
Of a time when changing weather
Was all of which we were unsure
And I have seen the sun rise
Over fields of green and gold
Now that view is just a memory
And I know I'm getting old
Can it be that earth is failing?
Can it be that light has dimmed?
Can it be that we've abandoned
all the life that we once lived?
Is it any wonder
that our children can't get over
just the smallest of infractions
when the world falls all around them?
For constancy is foreign
in a land of no intentions
where a lost appreciation
for sacredness of life abounds.
I cannot pretend
To understand it all
For as often as I wonder
Equal am I inclined to fall
For I am of a generation
Which forgets itself began,
Wanders aimlessly through atmosphere
And defiles its fellow man
And over weakness, few have triumphed;
Through affliction, few have prevailed
And reverence for creation
Is an instinct we have failed
But our days are not yet over
For this one hope stands unmoved:
We are still formed of the same dust
Whose strength our ancestry has proved.
Is there any remnant
of the spirit deep within us
that might once again remember
the great faith we once achieved?
There is far greater meaning
found in one hopeful sentiment
than in a thousand shouting voices
denying all things once believed.
Cassidy Claire Johnson © 2014.
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