I thought I would write to you
in the dark with no candles
and see how clearly I can think.
That vision I said would never go away
has somehow faded with the lights.
And dancing around in its stead is
a picture of blowing grass.
Don't think bad of me if I speak of grass
for it's that sweet image that will somehow
never leave me.
I know that when I die I will be there.
My hair restored to its youthful length.
And the wind will blow my hair like that grass.
And we will flow together with nothing to guide us
save for the wind.
It was nothing special it was nothing extreme
yet the image never leaves me.
Perhaps because there was not a care
that makes me care most of all.
Simple grass blowing in the wind.
It brings tears to these darkened and hollow eyes.
I want to sit and watch the grass
and that stream gently flowing.
I feel it flowing. Flowing through me like so many tears.
I feel the tears pulling at my eyes
and on the verge of collapse they hurt.
I know they won't come.
But it's nice to know they are there.
