Where I ran through the fields

Where lay the vision in my heart      
where I assume nothing,      
     
There were fields of blue violets      
enveloped by sleep,      
     
And the butterflies above them,      
were the spirit of the flowers      
that the violets were dreaming,      
     
I ran through the fields,      
and the fields ran through me,      
     
There was shepherd’s purse,      
polk, and dandelion greens,      
     
We gathered them,    
and gathered them,      
as they lay gathered in heaps,      
     
Mother cries for no meaning,      
only boils the toxins free      
and tastes the burdens,      
     
I ran through the fields,      
and the fields ran through me,      
     
There was no meaning needed      
as my yielding soul      
still conforms to the seedlings      
from the goodness of the atmosphere,      
where I knew of the blessings,        
     
Where lay the vision in my heart      
where I assume nothing,      
     
I ran through the fields,      
and the fields ran through me.