no such thing as an empty field

Last night I walked to the fire.

In the center was the fire;
my brothers were all around it.
Together we surrounded it,
together we stared into it,
yet I felt my eyes were dimmed by its light.
I said nothing.

I walked off into the field
and I stood in the wet grass.
The clouds of autumn were restless.
The sky behind them glowed pale and red
with the city I belong to miles away,
illuminating the air itself.

I heard a voice out in the field
It was asking for honesty, openness.
I could see it was a small, white light in the distance;
The florescent glow of a phone call, just visible above the wheat.
On the other end of the line were fortresses and demons,
but there the voice stood against them, in the open field.

I saw that the voice was alone.

I realized then that we were standing under the infinite;
The field contained us, the land, the sky, and the Lord.
In the grass, in the shadow of the trees I knelt and prayed.
I prayed that the field could somehow conform itself into this voice.
I prayed that those omniscient satellites could somehow transmit the glory around us.
And I prayed that the power we speak with could overcome the evil we speak to.

After it was over, we walked out of the field.
We walked over to a fire,
my brothers were all around it.
Together we surrounded it,
together we stared into it,
yet I felt my eyes were dimmed by its light.
I said nothing.