A Time Under Yours

Run alive

Into that moving field
Far away
With your eyes concealed

To never seek the world

A memory that sinks above
The wet tips of wheat
The death your past dreamt of

Crafting the silent waves

So lay still
Trapped under the wind
Draining fingered cups
With your rain drenched grin


Never to look up


And maybe someday
When the moon turns black

You could straighten your knees
And burden your back

To lift up your heart

But that could be then
Then so far from now

Our future never bends

Not in this moving field
No more than wind allows