Meadow

A meadow of green aspirations
Each blade reaching out towards the sun
Brightly swaying causing waves of determination
Roots binding to each other deep beneath the surface

High above clouds of desolation push through
Blanketing the earth in darkness
Dread entering the heart of the land
As lighting of pure resentment strikes
Time seems only of the imagination
Rumbles shattering the silence

Forty years dead when suddenly
Quiet colors streak under the suns touch