the field

I AM LOST IN A FIELD OF MY OWN MIND. THE NEEDLE ON MY COMPASS TURNS NORTH, AND THEN SOUTH, AND THEN SHRINKS INTO ITSELF, ALL THE WHILE GROWING HEAVIER IN MY HANDS. I TURN TO IT AND SEE MY REFLECTION IN THE GLASS, AND I FEEL MY HEART GROW AS HEAVY AS THE COMPASS. QUICKLY THE AIR AROUND ME BEGINS TO SWIRL. THE BREEZE BECOMES THICK AND IT BECOMES HARD TO BREATHE. IF I’M NOT CAREFUL I CAN BE LIFTED UP VERY HIGH, AND I DON’T KNOW WHERE I’LL LAND. I STEADY MY EYES THROUGH THE FOG, TOWARDS THE RING OF GLOWING LIGHT THAT SURROUNDS ME. IT IS FAR AWAY LIKE A FRIEND THAT I CAN’T REACH. ITS HEAT FLICKERS STEADILY AS MY COLD FACE PRESSES UP AGAINST THE WIND. I WALK NORTH, AND THEN SOUTH, AND THEN SHRINK INTO MYSELF. I’VE DONE THIS A THOUSAND TIMES IN A THOUSAND LIVES. EVERY INSTANCE THE FOG GROWS THICKER, THE WIND MORE ABUSIVE. THE LIGHT THAT IS MY FRIEND FLICKERS WITH LESS VITALITY. BUT THE GRASS UNDERFOOT GROWS FAR SOFTER AND IMPLORES ME TO SIT. HOW CAN I SIT WHEN I AM SUBJECT TO UPHEAVAL AT ANY MOMENT? I WAKE TO THE SOUND OF GRASS AND THE SMELL OF MY HEARTBEAT. I MUST HAVE FALLEN ASLEEP ON THIS FIELD RIGHT WHERE I STOOD, IN THE MIDST OF THIS TERRIBLE STORM, ON THIS NEVER-ENDING EVENING. I MUST HAVE DREAMED A DREAM SO CLEAR THAT I WAS HAPPY. BEFORE I CAN REMEMBER IT I AM TORN FROM THE GROUND BY WAY OF A SHARP GUST. I STRAIN FOR THE EARTH AND GRASP BUT ONE BLADE OF GRASS AS MY BODY IS LIFTED UP AND FLUNG DEEP INTO THE VOID ABOVE. DEEP INTO THE VOID. IT IS NO LONGER WINDY HERE, NOR IS IT LOUD. IN FACT, GRAVITY AND TIME THEMSELVES DO NOT WORK HERE, AND I SEEM TO KNOW THAT WITH CERTAINTY. IT IS ALL ABSENCE. THE ONLY LIGHT HERE IS EMANATING FROM MY BREAST POCKET. I PULL OUT MY COMPASS AND OBSERVE IT. A GLOWING LIGHT SURROUNDS THE FOGGY DIAL. AND WITHIN IT, A FIELD. AND WITHIN THAT FIELD, ME. AND I AM LOST.