On the Prairie

  I whisper in the darkness
close to ear and wispy thoughts.
That abound in the fertile fields of my imaginations.
I cry and feel myself dying in crowded bunches of brown prairie grasses.
I feel now in my fearful hope that imagination now binds in me.
I swallow and choke on the bitter morning brew from old speculations steaming.
In a boat on dry land, I find that my sea legs are ready.
I walk a shallow, staggered line in my brief encounter with the magic of the minds dreaming.
I will dream till I die, Long and far upon the prairie.
I will find my time under sheltered tears and with cracked lips.
Heaven is there to quench my thirst, one day, someday.
On the prairie.