Down Here On Earth

Somehow I have forgotten, it seems, what it is that it was I'd come down here to see; A perfectly perpendicular branch with the finest leaf on the oldest tree, or a mystery-wind blowing mournfully through the languished land of the free? Perhaps a place, a house, safe for a wolf, or a mouse, and an open hand stretched across wilderness land, of hills full, valleys lush where night falls with the sweetest hush; and there's water, pure and clean near fields of grassy-green, covered in fine fresh air, where each hearth and home glows with the fire of narry a worry, nor a care. Is this what my soul seeks, why I here came? to touch the difference, between the wild and the tame? Strange, I don't know the reason I've come nor when I must go. But the unknowing isn't the hardest part. What is, is through it all to simply take and keep heart. Overhead clouds and sun are set aglow, with blazing promises found in a passing rainbow. The vast shimmering sky, always just beyond me, goes forever flying, slowly by. Down here in the wild, I sit watching an eagle, a trout, and a frolicking deer move joyfully about; they study me studying them, together we ponder (each in our own way) where we are going, and where we have been.