The Field of Green

Partake, eat, inhale, chew, and be merry with the witches. Friend, walk away, cunning are their spells. In a field of green, many mighty men and women have sold everything they’ve owned to be cured from their fenced off gardens. How clever to obtain enough knowledge to master the nature of the sun’s gifts. As for me, all I have left is a poem to share. How many people actually recover? What is the solution to a mathematical health diagnosis? Friend, the language of medicine is understood by the doctor, not by too many patients. Mighty men find that they are not so mighty at all, they find themselves on their knees praying to be magically cured. Who really understands pain? Who really has the cure? Who really has the power to heal? On my quest to find the answer, I found myself in a maze surrounded by doctors and nurses poking at my flesh. Frustrated and confused, locked in a hospital room wandering through the halls in a gown half naked and drugged up, I realized that life is no different from death and every moment wasted falls in the hands of someone who outsmarted you. Suffering and high off of my medications, I hear the doctors and nurses laughing down the hall. I’m just a patient, my health plan is flawed, and I’m unsure if my God is listening. I’m alone in a room, I’ve been visited several times, sadly, everyone has already thrown in the towel when it comes to my survival. Friends, I’ve lived a life of optimism only to find out that life is like death when the odds are stacked against you, so friend, if you survive another day, write a love letter on the wall so that the next patient can get the message. There is no cure, there’s only pain, and suffering in hopes that the medicine man can save you, and when you die, the plants will feast off of your dead flesh to feed the next generation, but wait, I’m writing a story, so I say that there is no death. This is my life. If you made it this far without stoping your reading, friend, I say that death is an illusion made from life. How do you know that you’re not already dead? How do you even know that you’re alive? How do you know that the sun didn’t just plant you here like a seed? My friend, I’ve died a thousand times only to wake up in another world, yes, I have that much power. Pay close attention to who sells green grass for a cure, and in the end of one life, you will find that the grass is greener on the other side. There is no death, there is only pain and suffering to get to a better day and just because you don’t see me on your next day doesn’t mean that I’m not there, I’m just laying in a field of purple grass somewhere else waiting for a visitor.

The Field of Green.