There are times I need the spread of a meadow, green and flat
Or maybe a field with perfect rows of corn as I drive quickly by
I want to see the distance but not so much that I cannot be a part
Because where do people exist except in common occurrence?

Hands across the void unable to touch each other
Giant clocks with hands that move though we cannot see
Hands reaching to heaven but all we can feel is the rain
The sun and moon shine upon us but time passes not so gently

Between mountaintops is there a promise for the future?
What we see and gaze upon is only a moment to contemplate
Though some live in God’s country it is not the pleasure of most
To walk upon burning sands is the promise that we will live together

It is the truth that you must see in order to know truth itself
And so we must see his presence in the things we cannot touch
Yet what we feel is the warmth of day and the chill of the night air
And the sense of self that brings us together on common ground