there's a breeze blowing
down the moonswept plain
rippling through rows
of ripening wheat

as the sun shines slowly low
and thin across the horizon
bathing the land in silver
stark and lightning blue

its rays tug at heavy lids
and shine upon
a mirage floating hazy
far off in the distance

while night washes down
my waking eyes telling me
i'll be there before it
sees me again

and fades to whispers
from the sun
to an empty sky

i'm coming home