Out of the ashes of a broken spirit, a noble son struggles to break out, and he asks the red barns,

can you leave a farm?

and the barn whispers back to him, son, you can never leave a farm,

and a farm can never leave  you.

You can leave a house, maybe, or a car behind,

but not a farm. A farm enters your soul, sucks some air out, blows some back in.

A farm fills you with colors, inflates your spirit like a big red balloon.

A farm is a window into life, it wakes you up, smacks you upside the head with truth,

kisses your tired soul with the taste of love and earth,

takes your virgin spirit and puts some miles on it,

makes you blush like a young and happy bride.

wears you down with failing barns and broken fences,

flashes the nature of life and death,  litters the ground with

rusty pipes and muddy tires, tricky fences and hidden rooms.

washes your dreams away with tears,

brings them back with the dawn,

You can leave a lot of things in this wasteful life, my barn snickered at me,

but son, do not ever think you can leave a farm,

or that a farm can leave you, any more than you can

screw your heart out of its socket and leave it in the trash.