The Field

T
There is a field
In no place
An empty field
Except for me
It is a field of
Rich and loamy soil
Fertilised with tears
Unseen, except by me
It is the field of now
A quiet and solitary place
Yet I am not alone
I am with myself
I stand in no place
Deep within myself
I am grounded in this space
Myself and I
In this place
Accompanied by this silence
I wait

And be still

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badgerslabyrinth

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