I stand within the greenest meadow
Just a clearing, past the wood
That surrounds me, tall, with timber
Stretching out with open arms.

On this meadow, slightly slanting
Down into a valley green,
I give my soul up into wand'ring
Past the confines of my form.

Then the wind so gently presses
Smells and sounds from near and far,
And in the distance, people calling
Though they shall not find me here.

Slowly, gently, lightly guiding,
A single voice laughs on the wind
Though I wish to hear it calling
Me to her, she shall not speak.

Flowers of the sweetest fragrance 
Lilting through my sense of smell,
Then, I think I hear her calling...
Some illusion? Or is this so?

Different winds come in to see me:
North, and South, and East, and West;
Some soft Zephyr, lightly breezy,
Or Boreas, strongly gusts.

Yet through these brothers, often fighting,
Still I hear your distant call
And my soul creates your features
When my eyelids start to fall. 

I knew you once, you used to see me
(Though that memory is vague)
Like some one who was still different,
Like someone you might've loved.

I heave a breath, some mint I smell,
It brings back memories,
When I first found that I loved you
And kept my mysteries.

What of the mint? Some purpose then,
Though now I cannot find
A single hopeful reason why
It leads me back to you.

Your fleeting step, your dancing eye,
Your laugh that runs from me,
I've done this to myself, no blame
Is yours, loved one, this is my punishment.

Another breath. The sun still sees me
On the hill, alone, but does not mark
The journey, deep in me, these silent meditations, 
By the rocks, and grass, and trees.

Then nature whispers truths to me
Throughout the branches, grass, and stream,
But I cannot speak that language, nor
Seek to understand its thought.

And even as the wind grows colder,
I drift back into revery, thinking of our days
Together, and the joys we might have had,
But now those days are gone, fear looms, a cloud...

For, still within poetic training, and with feelings
Raw, and new; deep inside I felt an urging
To write one as I felt for you, but I could never
Tell you, no. Sometimes a flower best go unrecognized.

Still as this gift brought forth new bounties,
God gave me this gift, for you! But I saw
You felt no interest in my loving tones for you,
The singing fell on deafened ears, and art on sightless eyes.

Was this great gift of no great purpose?
Could it be that I mistook, and should not write
Just as I did? No, though sorrow long has held me,
Triumph in my verse prevails.

If you cannot ever love me, may you be 
My source of light! Just a model of perfection,
An Ideal, if nothing more, like all
This field, and wind and season.

A bluejay squawks and flits right through
My dreams, and thoughts flee off to space.
So I sigh. And rise, just leaving,
For the rest will ask of me.

Then I pause, in my arising, feeling all my strength succumb,
So I sleep, and dreams arrive
Like some pure, idle Eden
That God gives back to man.

I dream of this same hillside, slanting, like I never
Fell to sleep. Slowly, I can see you coming
Take my hand, and sit beside me with your
Understanding eyes, no words, but I can feel your thoughts.

I know all about you, through and through,
We have nothing to hide and express
Our boundless love through a hazy screen.
This is a dream, no more.

But it is all I've ever needed.