Vii. HOMECOMING

Beyond the Field

I am drifting through an endless field of flowers.

Did I die?

Or am I dreaming?

What is this place?

I am drifting through an endless field of flowers.

Did I die?

Or am I dreaming?

What is this place?

I am drifting through an endless field of flowers.

Did I die?

Or am I dreaming?

What is this place?

I look up—

cotton candy clouds blush against the fading blue,

soft wisps unraveling into the open sky.

Mountains rise in the distance,

draped in green velvet,

their peaks dusted with diamond dew.

I look up—

cotton candy clouds blush against the fading blue,

soft wisps unraveling into the open sky.

Mountains rise in the distance,

draped in green velvet,

their peaks dusted with diamond dew.

I look up—

cotton candy clouds blush against the fading blue,

soft wisps unraveling into the open sky.

Mountains rise in the distance,

draped in green velvet,

their peaks dusted with diamond dew.

Where am I?

I just want to lie here,

let the petals cradle me,

their fragrance clinging to my skin.

But I know I can’t stay.

The flowers will wither soon.

I just want to lie here,

let the petals cradle me,

their fragrance clinging to my skin.

But I know I can’t stay.

The flowers will wither soon.

I just want to lie here,

let the petals cradle me,

their fragrance clinging to my skin.

But I know I can’t stay.

The flowers will wither soon.

Why does God make something

so beautiful,

so fragile,

so fleeting?

Why does God make something

so beautiful,

so fragile,

so fleeting?

Why does God make something

so beautiful,

so fragile,

so fleeting?

Tears slip down my cheeks.

I want to remember—

but the past is always just out of reach.

Tears slip down my cheeks.

I want to remember—

but the past is always just out of reach.

Tears slip down my cheeks.

I want to remember—

but the past is always just out of reach.

He calls me forward, but I cling to the field.

Please, don’t make me go.

Let me stay with the flowers.

Let me swim in the sea of pink dahlias,

bathe in the breath of lavender,

kiss the strawberry roses.

He calls me forward, but I cling to the field.

Please, don’t make me go.

Let me stay with the flowers.

Let me swim in the sea of pink dahlias,

bathe in the breath of lavender,

kiss the strawberry roses.

He calls me forward, but I cling to the field.

Please, don’t make me go.

Let me stay with the flowers.

Let me swim in the sea of pink dahlias,

bathe in the breath of lavender,

kiss the strawberry roses.

Please—just a little longer.

Let me lose myself in this soft cotton breeze.

Let me dance with the dahlia petals

and hum with the bees.

Please—just a little longer.

Let me lose myself in this soft cotton breeze.

Let me dance with the dahlia petals

and hum with the bees.

Please—just a little longer.

Let me lose myself in this soft cotton breeze.

Let me dance with the dahlia petals

and hum with the bees.

But my feet are moving.

I am walking to You, God.

I look back.

But my feet are moving.

I am walking to You, God.

I look back.

But my feet are moving.

I am walking to You, God.

I look back.

The field that once swayed

like a thousand dancing ballerinas

is engulfed in the amber glow of a dying sun.

The mountains that once shimmered

with diamond dew

now stand as great, dark pyramids.

The field that once swayed

like a thousand dancing ballerinas

is engulfed in the amber glow of a dying sun.

The mountains that once shimmered

with diamond dew

now stand as great, dark pyramids.

The field that once swayed

like a thousand dancing ballerinas

is engulfed in the amber glow of a dying sun.

The mountains that once shimmered

with diamond dew

now stand as great, dark pyramids.

Where am I?

I want to remember,

but my memory—

like the wind—

drifts too far ahead,

or lingers too far behind.

Where am I?

I want to remember,

but my memory—

like the wind—

drifts too far ahead,

or lingers too far behind.

Where am I?

I want to remember,

but my memory—

like the wind—

drifts too far ahead,

or lingers too far behind.

I walk on.

The breeze sharpens,

its edges cold against my skin.

I turn back.

I walk on.

The breeze sharpens,

its edges cold against my skin.

I turn back.

I walk on.

The breeze sharpens,

its edges cold against my skin.

I turn back.

The sun has lost its battle to the moon.

The moon has brought the ocean to the land,

and now all is blue, violet, endless.

The sun has lost its battle to the moon.

The moon has brought the ocean to the land,

and now all is blue, violet, endless.

The sun has lost its battle to the moon.

The moon has brought the ocean to the land,

and now all is blue, violet, endless.

I close my eyes.

I cry.

I pray—

let the memories I left behind

catch up to me.

I close my eyes.

I cry.

I pray—

let the memories I left behind

catch up to me.

I close my eyes.

I cry.

I pray—

let the memories I left behind

catch up to me.

But all is swallowed

by the dark.

But all is swallowed

by the dark.

But all is swallowed

by the dark.

Then—

A voice.

Then—

A voice.

Then—

A voice.

Is it the moon?

Is it the darkness?

Is it You?

Is it the moon?

Is it the darkness?

Is it You?

Is it the moon?

Is it the darkness?

Is it You?

I open my eyes.

The land is alive with flying stars—

their light flickering, fading—fireflies in disguise.

I open my eyes.

The land is alive with flying stars—

their light flickering, fading—fireflies in disguise.

I open my eyes.

The land is alive with flying stars—

their light flickering, fading—fireflies in disguise.

I look up.

Did I die?

Or am I dreaming?

What is this?

Where is this?

I look up.

Did I die?

Or am I dreaming?

What is this?

Where is this?

I look up.

Did I die?

Or am I dreaming?

What is this?

Where is this?

I hear Your voice.

“Home.”

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