The Field

I am waiting In the field For you to find me The whispers of the wind To guide But you will not catch me You will not sweep me From the ground You will not leave me Either The night has come And you stand Above me Gaping, at my sorrow You do not know Who I Am But you know The nonsense Of the self Always wanting Seething for something Unreachable You are not the One I long for But you will do For now You will do It is hard to say Why A simple word I listen for the answer But it never comes The wind roars Through the brush And trees But they do not answer They snicker As I weep For my loss I want the warmth The immense comfort Of life Therefore you Will Not Do I have decided You are not What I seek You are A reminder Of what I have lost Your warmth Is lukewarm Your touch Shallow and steel You let me loose I will gladly go Away from this nonsense Away from the silence Of waiting Of wanting Hoping there is End You are hopeless You are also Sweet and civil But I will not You do not need me And I surely Do not want you Need and want In this field Are the same Need equals Want Want equals Need But you are neither What I want Or what I need I am Not want I want I am Not what I need My attempts to calm My fragile nerves In this silence Torture I am not enough But you are No longer listening You are not gaping Or waiting Or wanting You are gone And I am not But still We are not sufficient You are not And I am not So, who are we? Where are we? The field is Fading And I am Alone Whispering to Mocking Winds