My Place in the Field

If at some time
I knew I would die,
This field is the place
I know I would lie.

There's wheat all around,
Grass in my hair,
Birds flitting in the sky,
But no one else here.

With the clouds above drifting,
My mind light and free,
I close my eyes and soak in
The sun's rays with glee.

I could lie here forever,
Alone in this field,
One with the earth,
Not a care in the world.

Cars pass by now and then,
But don't pay me much mind,
So that if death did I crave here,
I'd have plenty of time.

Loud is not an adjectibe
Used in the space.
Sound means only my
Mind's state of grace.

If near the end,
Here I would lie;
Caressed by the ground,
Awaiting the sky.

- from a wheat field outside a small village in France

This I Believe

It's the spark that ignites
The tiniest smile
Just when you thought
You were broken.

It's the light in the eyes
Of your closest friend
That requires no words
Be spoken.

It brings back to life
The dead or the dying,
Without their asking first.

It kisses the wounds
Of the broken hearted,
And quenches unending thirst.

You can dream about it
And hold it close,
But no promises
Will it make;

For it is there
Whenever you want it,
Forever yours
To take.