sacred_meadow
daf
The
drive
back
was
pleasant
what
with
the
nursery
paint
scheme
of
the
sky
,
the
perfect
he
or
she
pastels
painting
their
mystic
magic
across
our
minds
like
before
like
before
the
doubt
and
the
fear
and
the
ugliness
came
in
we
were
us
again
for
a
bit
perhaps
for
more
than
a
moment
perhaps
forever
again
not
quite
like
it
used
to
be
but
fortifide
with
our
scars
drowned
and
resurrected
in
our
tears
the
baptism
of
the
ever
faithful
the
blessed
struggle
come
to
save
us
mostly
me
from
myself
The
way
your
spirit
knows
your
mind
(
and
the
other
way
around
)
is
enchanting
to
me
and
always
has
been
you
are
closer
to
the
source
than
I
may
ever
be
some
wild
horses
mingle
with
donkeys
more
than
they'd
care
to
admit
and
forget
that
what
curls
up
next
to
the
beast
may
wind
up
in
its
belly
not
you
your
shield
is
strong
you
spirit
rides
high
and
as
the
wind
through
your
hair
reminds
me
of
this
fact
our
conversation
turned
to
those
clouds
and
how
they
seemed
so
stable
while
we
ourselves
were
moving
compared
to
the
immediate
landscape
and
how
maybe
hunter
gatherers
valued
the
stars
more
and
the
moon
more
and
the
sky
more
because
when
your
home
is
everywhere
only
the
sight
of
the
moon
blessed
moon
and
the
sunset
familar
sunset
and
the
sky
gone
from
dark
to
light
in
regular
rythms
only
these
are
to
those
windriders
as
comfortable
as
home
And
the
in
the
light
of
that
conversation
we
saw
each
other
again
in
our
sacred
meadow
dear
field
of
wildflowers
and
sweet
grass
where
the
clouds
are
imagined
shapes
that
float
away
never
to
be
seen
again
,
but
never
quite
forgotten
then
when
we
talked
about
how
the
earth
and
trees
the
homes
and
cars
the
familiar
lumps
of
matter
piled
up
around
us
become
our
moon
and
stars
once
we've
stopped
moving
And
I'm
not
sure
if
I've
ever
told
you
that
this
connection
between
us
this
tightrope
we
walk
between
the
earth
and
the
sky
between
our
hearts
and
our
minds
this
place
where
spirits
reside
and
minds
collide
this
is
home
to
me
.
210920
...
next morning edit
The
drive
back
was
pleasant
what
with
the
nursery
paint
scheme
of
the
sky
the
perfect
he
or
she
pastels
painting
their
mystic
magic
across
our
minds
like
before
like
before
the
doubt
and
the
fear
and
the
ugliness
came
in
we
were
us
again
for
a
bit
perhaps
for
more
than
a
moment
perhaps
forever
again
not
quite
like
it
used
to
be
but
fortified
with
our
scars
drowned
and
resurrected
in
our
tears
the
baptism
of
the
ever
faithful
the
blessed
struggle
come
to
save
us
mostly
me
from
myself
The
way
your
spirit
knows
your
mind
(
and
the
other
way
around
)
is
enchanting
to
me
and
always
has
been
you
are
closer
to
the
source
than
I
may
ever
be
some
wild
horses
mingle
with
donkeys
more
than
they'd
care
to
admit
and
forget
that
what
curls
up
next
to
the
beast
may
wind
up
in
its
belly
not
you
your
shield
is
strong
your
spirit
rides
high
the
wind
through
your
hair
reminds
me
of
this
fact
of
how
our
conversation
turned
to
those
clouds
how
they
seemed
so
stable
while
we
ourselves
are
moving
compared
to
the
immediate
landscape
and
how
maybe
hunter
gatherers
valued
the
stars
more
and
the
moon
more
and
the
sky
more
because
when
your
home
is
everywhere
only
the
sight
of
the
moon
blessed
moon
and
the
sunset
familiar
sunset
and
the
sky
gone
from
dark
to
light
in
regular
rhythms
only
these
are
to
those
wind
riders
as
comfortable
as
home
And
in
the
light
of
that
conversation
we
saw
each
other
again
in
our
sacred
meadow
dear
field
of
wildflowers
and
sweet
grass
where
the
clouds
are
imagined
shapes
that
float
away
never
to
be
seen
again
,
but
never
quite
forgotten
there
we
talked
about
how
the
earth
and
trees
the
homes
and
cars
the
familiar
lumps
of
matter
piled
up
around
us
become
our
moon
and
stars
once
we've
stopped
moving
I'm
not
sure
if
I've
ever
told
you
that
this
connection
between
us
this
tightrope
we
walk
between
the
earth
and
the
sky
between
our
hearts
and
our
minds
this
place
where
spirits
reside
and
minds
collide
this
is
home
to
me
.
210920
...
.
.
210921
...
epitome of incomprehensibility
The
third
verse
especially
draws
me
in
.
Beautiful
images
.
210921
