An Account of Events..

He rises at 3, sleepless..insomniac, he looks out the window as the distant promise of light draws closer, he opens the window and takes a deep breath..one that reaches the very last nerve tip in his lungs..resurrecting his soul. He ponders..at the rules of probable outcome, as the fire rages within him like the Holy fires in ancient temples..a thousand year old flame..he watches the distant hill, as the east lights a candle called dawn..Demons are now starting to hide..for light is their enemy..she reveals their hidden truths.

He sips his coffee..trying to jump start his brain cells into functioning correctly..as he opens the book he set sail into the prior evening..page 47, the second paragraph..the wind outside rattles the door like a persistent salesman, day light is now coming to age, as the golden wheat fields in the distance sway in a choreographed prayer motion, and the shepherd gathers his flock for the morning feed, shepherds are noble...prophets were shepherds.

She comes to mind, and his being.. declares the State of Emergency..

"You'll remember me..when the west wind moves..among the fields of barley..you can tell the sun in his jealous sky..when we walked in fields of Gold."