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The Field
No, this is not the divine matrix or unified field. This is no theory. This is a manifestation of beauty and intelligence. This IS the wild prairie of my youth, the field. Shooting star flowers exploding in majestic unison, giving birth to a swaying ascending galaxy of lotus blossoms. This is a direct transmission, a permutation of the cells, a memory, a vortex in time. We designated the trails, cordoned off territories, and realms, unseen, but sensed. I could feel the spirits in my gut she would say. I said no, I can hear them in the wind. Thoughts traveled across silent midnights, we were of ONE mind. Yet experiencing each moment somehow separate. The chill nights would contrast icy stars against northern skies alive and teeming with consciousness. Every hollow oak, every fallen cottonwood, every trampled leaf still lived, through me, in me, and all around me. This WAS and IS, the field of my youth.
