I scream at the top of my lungs
out and across vast, honey-wheat plains.
A cool morning breeze hugs my barren body-
and its chills seem to ask the wind, "Is this indecision?
If I need be tentative, do I in turn hideaway my courage?"
An unsure finish leads me to hesitation.
Yet, ecstatic excitement and the thrill of possibility
lay a soft kiss upon the supple lips of opportunity.
And I know now that it is my time to run-
with arms wide open as the sun shines upon my face
and the wind whispers into my ear, feelings of a quintescent
energy so fluid and real beg to rip apart my rib cage and pour
the soul of my heart onto the begging and thirsty soil beneath my bare feet.
Sensational unknowing, how can my soul catapult into such a terrific nothingness!
And to have this terrific nothingness accept my soul!
I do not know whether I should be screaming with laughter or tearing down my cheeks in streams.
I need not halt at failure!
Or do I?
A projection of delusions lead me to a certain insanity.
Do i dare decide for myself the precise moment in time
in which it is a must for me to fall victim to the ordinary?
For the white-walled normalities of life
seem to be enclosing around my very thoughts.
Corruption belittles me as well as others,
and I know that I now must settle down-
and serve for the greater good.
But time can lead the mind to wander-
and every once in awhile I find myself pondering
beautiful rebellion.
But I must not think that way, for age and society
have conspired in clipping my wings, and to think freedom
is to play along to a forgotten game that was played during a forgotten age.
Oh hollowed life, long corrupted and conformed world, how dare you toil with the understanding of space and time?
I fall to my knees with my face buried in my hands.
Genuine madness and excitement, is your absence permanent?
Must this last forever?
The sun is setting now and I realize that my hope should have remained
never.
And I scream at the top of my lungs out and across spacious honey-wheat plains.