I walk through the field, alone. So much of it seems familiar, so much past and empty future. The field of brokenness, the field of tears, the field of trials, the field of pain. It is worn. Though it presses in around me, I cannot touch it. I cannot reach it. I walk through it, but not in it. I am beside it, but not a part of it.
I am confused as I reach to touch the old buildings, but can’t. I see the splintered wood, but cannot be pierced by its tattered edges. I run my fingers through the brush, but cannot feel its death. What is this place that I can see, but cannot grasp? How am I here, but unable to feel it?
All around me, loneliness crowds the air. Something so strangely familiar pushes me to my past. Something so strong, so vile, so wicked is pressing me down, and my breath is caught between my racing thoughts. I stand in the midst of this desolation. I turn slowly and all around me is broken.
And I remember. Continue reading “Desolate Fields” →