Grass Field, Oak Tree, Wind Breeze, Ants

Across the ocean, in a place far away, on a verdant field, with an oak tree above my head. A place where they understand me but I do not, but I hope I will one day.

Sitting on the dew-dropped field, though making my clothes wet, smells nice. With my back against the oak tree, and the oak tree tossing its autumn leaves at me like I’m a friend its teasing, I feel at peace.

The wind, with a mischievous look on its face, thrusts me, almost making me lose the book I was reading. Seeing that it failed, it struts away in annoyance, huffing and puffing, humming its Carmen Dei as it walks away.

Little soldiers walk through the woods. Little soldiers do their work. Gathering material and fighting against intruders. Protecting their commander and protecting each other. Going along with life and having fun too, though they don little black armor and pointy pincers too.

I once read a comic about people having the abilities of bugs. It made bugs seem cooler than they do in real life, though they must have more freedom than us humans regarding choice and duty.

I look at myself, and I look at an hourglass. I want to grab the sand and flip the glass, to start all over, once again, but I think the sand is in my eyes.

Running like lions across the safari, 

Standing upright without a worry,

Doing their work without a thought of perturbance,

For how I wish to be like that,

For how I wish to be like that,

Free like the wind,

Free like the oak tree I see,

Free like those little black ants,

One day, when I’m free of all the shackles of the future that bind me, 

Free from grains of sand slipping through the hourglass uncontrollably,

I, when I’m free one day, no I know I will be,

Then I can understand the viridescent field, across the ocean, with an oak tree in the middle, with freedom’s lyre lying in the wind.

Like they understand me.