Through the Fields

It’s never quite simple
To traverse through the fields
Dark, unkempt, labyrinthine
And the muddy footprint
Provides no bearing or hint
For that print could be yours or be mine.

Grasses made firm
From unhindered growth
Majestic, impressive, unrestrained
They won’t bend to force
As a matter of course
For these stalks never cared if it rained.

The everlong field
Which engulfs us whole
Excessive, ill-equipped, ill-conceived?
It’s reliant on us
So to end all this fuss
The solution is true, if believed:

The taming of stalks
To walk through the fields
Unwavering, unbeaten, unafraid
Takes joining of hearts,
Minds from all parts,
And the activists lending their aid.

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