It is too dark and too late and too soon

It’s always the daytime someplace
And if we were there you would say
It’s too light and too early and too late

And so neutrality would be preferred,
To maintain ourselves on both sides of the fence?

Either side of the fence, you mean
For opposite we stand and shall remain
Until you let me climb over
Where the grass is green

It is no greener here
And all the more feet for trampling
Would ruin what is already bruised
And which would never grow back

I would not trample you.

We were talking about the grass
But now, yes, you will obliterate me
If you take but one step closer

Darling I will leave you
If you do not burn down that dratted fence

Oh my darling,
you were never mine for me to be left.

'Life is still a blank canvas', he said.

So she told him to paint a house.
All fenced up,
And to color the grass extra green.
(So that temptation wouldn't court him)

'Why that picture?', he asked.

She replied, *'Because no matter where you go,
Your roots should always bring you home.'

'Because even if the sky is the limit,
And you reach it, the greenest grass
Even from way up above,
will always be your beacon.'

'Because change should be a shade vibrant,
Only then change could mean growth.'

'Because that home you build,
Will be your resting place.
After you've conquered your dreams--
It'll be your place of ease.'

'And', she said, 'because marks and goals
are set first,
the course decided later.
Lastly, *because those pictured endings,
are the best place to begin.'

That fence seemed to go on
forever.
With every trough and crest of the terrain,
the posts seem to trail off
into the stark black
nothingness of the night.
Suddenly, the flash of the headlights,
affirming its infinite presence.
Only three feet tall,
but countless miles of boundary.