Cycles

And here I sit in the fields of whole grain and grass,

Of leaf and clover, where insects and birds chirp to the

Evening procession of ‘time’.

I contemplate the stars that emerge and the whorls of time,

That cyclical nature that I saw not too long ago,

And remembered with fondness.

I do so lonely… but not alone.

Upon the acrylic sheets of multiverse,

I am surrounded by a love unknown and sure,

Deeper than imagination and more comforting than sleep.

And now it rains.