Meditation

The grass was mowed today at Hutton Arena. As I laid down on the good earth, I was intoxicated by the aroma. Crickets nearby sang their song of love, and I felt blessed. If only I could see the stars, but it's not possible with the light pollution. No wonder people's imaginations have withered and we are all at each other's throats. Divide and conquer is how this country is run though, when it should've been unite and liberate the whole time. I still imagine though. There has to be a way to rise above my pitiable condition. Only something as crass as money can restore the beauty within me; I suppose it has something to do with the old Yin and Yang. The wisdom of the Orient brings me peace. I can still live and not be overwhelmed by the dread hanging over me like a gathering storm. I know that makes me strange, but I have always been a stranger wherever I am, whomever I am with. I think that this life of mine will not have been in vain, that the path I have taken did not lead nowhere. But if this is nowhere it is not so bad. The freshly mown grass smells sweet and the crickets are now silent. They have found love. Perhaps, someday, I will too. The crickets are singing another verse and I love all the world.