Grasslands

I see you there, underneath the sky,
that huge and glorious high.
And in-between, a sea of green
that cuts this apparition into two;
that sits upon a world that, once we knew,
would ask can there exist utopian space
in any other place;
Elysian field, whose life is sealed
by rhizosphere, rooted verdant gold,
on ancient land that’s older than the old.

Is this the vision of a higher mind
that shall reveal the kind
of paradigm that frees, sublime,
the spirit of a seer; a poet, whose strains,
in sight of soaring eagle, dancing cranes,
will elevate the spirit beyond rightdoing;
redeem the soul’s wrongdoing.

Where will we meet and tread our feet
and lie down in the grass, in pastures green.
Whilst still we have our breath…
…take in this scene.

(Read the author’s commentary on this poem)

© 2011 John Anstie