Fields of gold
It started raining, and to go out we could not, for she said to wait, until the grass became dry. I went out alone, and watched as the wet grass lapped at my feet, and I found the daffodils, before their beauty was eaten away by the morning sun. I lay down in wait, in the fields of gold, knowing that she would come, but before she did, there came a fog, there came rain. I was stabbed by thunder, and struck by lightning, and I lost my way to her. I lost my way home. I thought to wait far off, in a land unknown, believing that she would tarry, for her promise still rung in my head, that she would come, when it was finally light, that she would find me, when she regained strength. But it has never become light, and maybe she never regained her strength.
Oh love, you have made me wait, and patiently I have served my sentence, but my heart is weak, and it cannot wait anymore. I have wandered around, seeking the field, but it’s all misery; it’s all grief. Come and save me, oh, for my heart is growing old, and my soul is growing weary. Say a word, and perhaps I shall hear. Say something; and perhaps my soul shall be healed. I am deep in turmoil, and I am in pain.
The fields that we once loved, the fields of gold have melted into nothingness. The flowers have wilted, and the birds have gone silent. There is nothing out here to hold on to, nothing to hope for in this world of lost wanderers. Loneliness has consumed me, and madness is quickly taking the place of sanity. I am fighting a war, to keep the voices out of my head, and I am losing the fight. I am running towards every familiar sign, in the hope that I am getting home, but it is just a place that I had been past minutes ago. Oh love, tarry not long. Come for me, if you find the fields. Call out to me, when you meet the familiar glow, and the last of my footsteps. Hand me back the final fragments that make me whole. Hand me back memories of the field of gold, the memories of you, memories of me before I became an animal, memories of the past, before the present became a mockery.
It started raining, and to go out we could not, for she said to wait, until the grass became dry. I went out alone, and watched as the wet grass lapped at my feet, and I found the daffodils, before their beauty was eaten away by the morning sun. I lay down in wait, in the fields of gold, knowing that she would come, but before she did, there came a fog, there came rain. I was stabbed by thunder, and struck by lightning, and I lost my way to her. I lost my way home. I thought to wait far off, in a land unknown, believing that she would tarry, for her promise still rung in my head, that she would come, when it was finally light, that she would find me, when she regained strength. But it has never become light, and maybe she never regained her strength.
Oh love, you have made me wait, and patiently I have served my sentence, but my heart is weak, and it cannot wait anymore. I have wandered around, seeking the field, but it’s all misery; it’s all grief. Come and save me, oh, for my heart is growing old, and my soul is growing weary. Say a word, and perhaps I shall hear. Say something; and perhaps my soul shall be healed. I am deep in turmoil, and I am in pain.
The fields that we once loved, the fields of gold have melted into nothingness. The flowers have wilted, and the birds have gone silent. There is nothing out here to hold on to, nothing to hope for in this world of lost wanderers. Loneliness has consumed me, and madness is quickly taking the place of sanity. I am fighting a war, to keep the voices out of my head, and I am losing the fight. I am running towards every familiar sign, in the hope that I am getting home, but it is just a place that I had been past minutes ago. Oh love, tarry not long. Come for me, if you find the fields. Call out to me, when you meet the familiar glow, and the last of my footsteps. Hand me back the final fragments that make me whole. Hand me back memories of the field of gold, the memories of you, memories of me before I became an animal, memories of the past, before the present became a mockery.
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