Between the breaks in our breath,
We take in,
The sum of all our conceived universes,
Inhaling all we can,
Love, lust, desires and prejudices,
We stretch on and on, forever;
the fields in our head,
Threatening to break at the seams,
We hold on,
To hope, to dreams,
Slowly realizing,
We were born to write,
And we’re dying to tell.

Standing here,
In fields of clover,
All around,
Bathed in light;
All I see is,
Green grass, and this sky,
And then, in a flash of orange,
I remember,
How effortless it is,
To breathe in,
In this beautiful world.