A flourishing field of flowers strides across the teeming landscape
Weaving wind currents disperse fallen leaves; birds soar above the bellowing howls of Zephyr
The meadow is illuminated identical to the shining stars seen overhead
Such a place as this can’t be described merely in words

To understand the field, one must hear its echoing melody
Can you hear its blissful humming in the crisp night air?
Can you hear the birds serenading every dawn? Can you hear them whistling lullabies every dusk?
Can you hear Gaia’s song? So splendid, you not only hear it but can taste its saccharine stanzas?

To know the field, one must feel its warmth and bask in its radiance
Can you feel the firm grasp of the Sun's rays? Can you tell it won’t ever let go of you? Do you care?
Can you feel the field’s invigorating warmth enticing you?
Can you feel it take away your gloomy desolation? Can you feel it take away your stress and doubts?

To appreciate the field, one must see its abundant life
Can you see the trees growing in peace as they amass their armies yet carry no animosity and strife?
Can you see the pure, unpolluted streams that flow forever as if in a perpetual race against Father Time?
Can you see the Nightingale in her tree composing? Can you see the other as he anticipates her words?

To fathom the field’s perfection you must find it yourself. “Where is this field? Someone must know”
It’s in a place that must be found on your own. There’s only one place where it could begin to grow
The field lies where anyone can find it but it’s also a place where many will never find its mark
The paradise you seek can only be found deep in your heart, after you let Love cultivate the Dark