Even now,

in the meadow,

I feel my heart pumping hard,

sweat on my forehead,

my shoes seeking firm ground.

I am thinking of pain and disappointment,

of grief and loss, of running out of the shadows,

into the light.

Even now,

I want to think of virtuous things,

to wash myself in light,

I want to laugh and turn my face to the wind,

and be kissed by the sun.

Even now,

I want to do impossible things,

to be ridiculous and unlikely,

I want my soul to be impossibly beautiful,

as though it could soar right over the meadow,

and up through the clouds.