Ahead of you, a field,

Surrounded by darkness,

So endless it seems like oblivion,

No real particular flowers,

Just weeds and wild flowers that spread out for infinity..

It's nighttime, they are all sleeping,

You were at the beginning of the field,

Now it seems to have no beginning or end.

The grass’ height frightens you,

When you collapse to the ground of confusion and the intensity,

The field towers over you.

Your neck stretches to look up,

Because all of humankind does,

When they don't have the answer,

Their eyes are drawn automatically to the sky,

Searching for the answer

As if it's going to be there,

Spelled out among the stars.

"The answer -is- there... it has to be.",

The night is covered by clouds,

The meaning is lost there.

When it seems that all hope is lost,

The wind listens to your mind and begins to push the confusion away,

Not only the stars begin their entrance,

But the moon releases it's deceitful radiance,

The flowers are deluded as well as you,

Believing the answer is there,

They begin to open at the false light.

There are always two things in life that never seem to go away,

Hope and doubt,

And they contradict each other so often,

When you see the flowers start to open when they shouldn't,

It doesn't seem like anything should work,

Nothing is right,

And there's the doubt.

All of a sudden the flowers begin to move,

They dance and awaken, and you see what they really are,

Butterflies spread their wings and take flight, flying in your oblivion,

Hiding as flowers and covering you,

And there's hope.

One can only wonder if they were too tricked by the moon,

Or disturbed by the wind,

Or if that was their plan the entire time.

"Where could they fly to?"

It's oblivion,

They fly endlessly,

They don't know where they are flying,

We don't, no one, not until they land,

"We should follow them."

We're not supposed to, we're supposed to stay here,

We can't, it’s not our time to fly,

You want to...

It pulls at you,

They are so beautiful,

You're curious to know where they will land,

Once you look back up, you know,

It's just as beautiful right here,

"Anywhere I can see the stars, I am happy."

Why isn't it the same when you look at sky?

"It's like looking through frosted glass."

The light is blocking the beauty,

The sun is harmful,

Blinds you,

Burns you.

"Oh, no."

"It's beautiful."

"But a billion suns are more beautiful, still."

Nothing bad can ever come when you look at night,

"It's the distance, and the age, and the power they must have to reach that far."

No...

Before humankind knew,

They were drawn to it,

"There's the simple beauty of it."

We were born from it,

We all have a connection to our parents,

Just because we are born from them,

Wouldn’t it be the same from that birth?

But then,

What of the people who only see them as that, just stars?

How can they miss...

How can they not feel it,

"Some people are just mundane"

Not feel how good rain feels,

The wind,

And how the emotion,

Any emotion,

Just builds up inside anytime you look up at night,

And just be frozen in place,

By the simple elegance and beauty of that oblivion that we are drawn to?

"Perhaps they don't want to be."

It's death,

Those who know the death is something less,

Then what others make it to be,

That's why we're so drawn to it,

We see death as the ultimate, endless thing,

Maybe it's beautiful,

“Maybe.”

It's endless,

Like the night sky and this feild are endless,

And no matter how hard we try,

We are always forced to look at it,

Analyze it,

And never fully understand it,

Never know the right answers,

Or the right questions,

We're just amazed at it,

And that's all we can be.

Goodnight, my philosopher.