The field Where We Lived Again

I see the field, feel it beneath my shoes as I run behind you, the scent of your hair in my nose, along with the wet grass. It is early in the day. You are younger, but I sense you were once older, perhaps someone I knew once before, someone I looked up to, someone for whom it scared me through five lifetimes to be without, yet knowing once more we would be together. Yes, the day and the season are early. I can see it clearly.

I am ugly beautiful.
You were beautiful ugly.

Ah, but the omniscient author foresees having to convince you of that. I will try to convince you while you mind pulse message friends and family. When our tongues meet we will again know each others’ thoughts, and to whom they reach out. Are we going to be ready for that pain again?

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