A Field.

Lying amid a field of blossoms,

Suddenly I look at my hands,

Those tiny lines were do they lead,

Is the path I’m treading,

Filled with petals or just thorns.

As a swirl of light shines down,

Creeping from the corners,

Slowly the shadows start to fade away.

Its warmth like a soft hug,

For a while I feel a lightness,

A strange joy never known before,

Hours pass by as if mere seconds,

Time moves on but what about me,

How do I get used to this?

Is it the light that’s dimmed,

Or just me who has become too sensitized,

Will it flare up again once more?

My place hasn’t changed,

I’m still lying at the same spot,

So why am I now feeling cold?