It was beautiful, so beautiful one morning,

it was so still and serene, I could almost hear God speak,

directly to me, in the waves and waves of the golden fields.

From the mouths of the bees buzzing over the dandelions,

from the ornaments hanging in the morning sky, the clouds,

the hawks, the geese, the songbirds, the shining light.

Existence was so beautiful one morning,  we fell in love with

the horizon itself, stretching to the edge of the world,

and with the very nature of life itself, we  were stricken

with yearning and meaning, we were stunned and helpless

trying to comprehend the nature of the divine, through the tiny gnats

and flies that danced in the light, through the cries of the frogs and crickets

in the marsh, through the mouths of angels

and fairies and spirits hanging like ornaments in the sky,

crying out to us to see the miraculous sparkles of each moment,

each breath, each step.

It was so beautiful, so beautiful, our hearts ached for the golden fields,

we could not hear God whistling this morning on his way to work,

so we weep a bit, until we can,

we weep for the golden fields.