Dreams of the future come to me,
Into quiet places there they take me.
Is this real, can it be?
Or do my dreams forsake me?
Wonderful places full of grace.
Hushed and gentle the fields before me.
Far off vistas without threat.
Beckon transit and no regret.
High white clouds seen through the blue,
Of heavenly sky’s above me.
Eyes are on me, but from where?
They pacify and do not scare.
Beauty answers to my gaze,
Makes the view come clear through haze
Can this be real? It is so refined,
Everything here is intertwined.
Natural, is this feeling on my face,
In all directions and in every place.
These fields are my home now
And all is right beneath the bough.