Fields

I toiled beneath a brutal sun

the sweat drenching my body,

each muscle screaming its protest,

but inside my spirit glowed

because my hands were in harmony

with the very core of my very soul

that flame in my heart,

which only burned

when I was doing what I truly loved.

 

Didn’t matter the insects or weeds,

nor the fact the field wasn’t mine,

inside I was utterly alive,

completely throbbing in adrenaline from my labor

and every night I laid down exhausted,

yet peace flowed through me,

never feeling happier in my life

from that sense of harmony

where potential found its perfect expression.

 

Driven by incredible passion

to return those furrows every morning

it was like some narcotic in its power

as it gave me a joy so fulfilling.

nothing deterred me from my euphoria.

 

When the harvest came

was time that I needed to move on to another soil

while the owner took his crop to reap his wealth,

his face soured and somber

easily telling me there was only hollowness in his prosperity,

 

For me the intoxication lay in what I did,

regardless of the toys or trinkets I possessed.