The Field

My first memories are that of a huge cornfield.
The immense beauty of nothingness. A warm wind that caresses my thoughts. The sky is grey, quiet, and I’m almost afraid to look at it. An inverted sea the depth of a thousand clouds.
I hug my mother, I take in her perfume and touch her black dress, feeling the wind helps me understand the confines of my world: my mothers arms.
I keep one eye open, I see only field, field sky, sky, sky, field.
Golden fire and waves of rain. Where is the sun?
There is no need to speak. I just feel,
I taste the perfect confusion that holds over this world, the white light that sustains the thread of madness that doesn’t snap.
The Earth is simply everything; it is love with deep, deep roots.
It’s where life is, with its grey skies and sadness.
Everything comes rushing back and I’m serene, no longer afraid.
I am Earth, I am ashes in the void.
My heart beats, a vessel for love. I am a just a drop, a long way away from a dirty sea of diesel, a grim sea full of nasty thoughts and black with vanity.
I don’t need anything. I don’t have much but it’s enough.
I have understood the complexity of nothing, the secrets of the horizon.
The harmony of an embrace. Two extremes that overlap.
The absolute clarity of a child that is aware, that travels one thousand feet high in the arms of his mother. Looking down on a world that will never understand but comprehends.
The complexity of nothing. Simple beauty.
I have no idea where I am from, if I am.
I know that when the last drop of life falls from my brow, I will return to this cornfield. That grey sky.
And I will understand.
If I close the other eye I will not be afraid anymore.
My memories end there.