Entrance into the Field

Here I am amidst a wave of dying wheat
swaying in a fragrance of burnt oak.
My feet heavy within a listless gut;
an inconclusive body
in a realm of bitter soil.

Malicious clouds observe a ruin,
unnourished and dim-
a pith of a steeped soul.
A boundless dream once
hidden within your broad mouth.

Earth of sweet marrow,
embrace me to a life.
To your death,
To your trodden pasture,
where a neutral path blazes,
and is still, and breathes.

Let us be destroyed by fire.
Let us be silent.