Alone in the midst of the fields of wheat, clouds hover over her listless flesh and bones
Cold as the night air she stands
Feet as heavy as an anvil surging to the bottom of the ocean

The pouring rain rages from the heavens coating the porcelain skin with the essence of touch
Hands in the air
Prayers flowing through her lungs to the sky above

In a moment of weakness, she is grounded to her knees
The wind rests in front of her face; she stares eye to eye with the guardian of all that is
Trying to inhale the power of the almighty and humble to his calling

Wind sucks the life from her fragile body
Breathing becomes harder
Darkness becomes prominent
Conscious life is a distant memory

As she falls, the ambassadors of nature cover up the shell of this once brave and ample young vision
It is that final surreal moment where all flashes of life come to the forefront like a cinema directed by the mind and viewed by the judges of the afterlife

From birth to death is but a trial with a jury of idiots pondering a sentence with no meaning
Judged by imagination and faith

The wind vanishes, the sun rises, the harvest gleams
Birds fly with broken wings for another is gone