The Fields

byRazzRajen©

Imperfections on a field of snow
untrodden paths,
do they meet and become
trampled.

Wild beaste,
running roughshod, perchance
Does it make for a new one
to live again
 ever and ever
return immemorial
ne'er changing, ne'er moving.

Looking for the one
and finding
peace in the fields
trampled and hewn.

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