White Fields
There are no sanctions in life, each thought or action is balanced, each day brings night, each wrong brings right. to the right of darkness is light. Rolling and level fields of white stretch before the wonderers of life. Every knowl has a vale every depth has a height. There may be fences or covered rocks, mole holes or a tree here and there. The fields lay flat as white mats or carpets of dazzling colors with images and holograms of attentive life darting in and out of sight.
An Angel may wing by as a swift blast of wind, or tread lightly nearby embodied in the coat of a deer. A message of memory in a frozen leaf whirling at play near your feet. A dancing thought on the white field of nearly forgotten time, a time known to a single mind. White fields of winter crusted over by ice, wind and snow, melted by harsh rays of sun or broken by footsteps leading on, on to a forest or into the horizon, on to a destination known only to one.
White fields of melancholy places, as blank expressions on white faces. A blank stare at the world where color dots the landscape creating beauty to evoke complex passions. There are white fields that remain untrodden harbored by green borders of golf courses and cultured forests. Here there are snowballs and snowmen and an occasional white stallion running on white ground within the boundaries of white corral fences. Towns of milk and money, snow white people with Christian virtues, snowy hallucinations and discomforts of frozen noses and cracked lips chapped by the blistering boredom of dreary days of blinding white. They read sun blinded blurbs on newsprint, snowy computer and television screens, that cause infectious white diseases of eyestrain and migraines, cured by aspirin, alcohol, Prozac or cocaine.
White fields sometimes turn to yellow and sometimes melt away from fevered heat, but in the Artic and Antarctic, and rural plains of snow and ice white fields remain forever white. Though global warming may melt away layers of ancient ice caps and expose a colored history, white fields will remain white until the rains of change bring great floods to destroy all in anarchy, then the muddy colors of mighty rivers overflowing their banks will forever change the once white landscape.
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