The Field

The Field

There is an empty field, in the heart of the Rockies,

The soil silky, the flowers vibrant in their hue.

The air smells of a distinct vanilla odor,

But there is an inexplicable presence that lays on the land.

They say the longer you stay in this meadow,

The more you feel connected to its nature,

The more you feel connected to its presence.

This is the place you feel the most alive.

I have ventured to this acclaimed field,

And it is not as remarkable as the story goes.

The drought-stricken plain has transformed to a rustic yellow.

The vibrant flowers wither away and fade from the spotlight.

There are three boulders that are dispersed across the vast meadow.

I perch up on the tallest one, overlooking the deep valley below.

I am at my highest of highs, the peak of my existence

But this feeling hits me, and pulls me back down to earth.

I think of the family I left behind, the memories, the faces,

All the little details that comfort me,

In my times of distress.

I then look at the breathtaking view presented in front of my eyes.

I know, in that moment, where my home is.

They say this field is magical and mystical in its powers.

I say that it leads me to my true home,

The place I can truly experience my journey through life.