The fields etch a pattern upon the ethereal plains
As the wind holds the land in a lovers embrace
Earthen vessel all I carry is emptiness
I wander these fields day and night blur into a single reflection a silent lake of atrophied thoughts
Moonlight challenges me to appraise myself
and my fate is mimicked by the seasons always repeating, though winter waxeth like the moon
alone forever echoing forward into eternal insurmountable aeons sealing my fate before i can scream.
I cease and the fields taste the scythe of finality