Variations on the Gleaming Ozuk Fields of Garafnilla

I once dreamed of a place where I had not died A place where creatures romped and Spilled over the green hillsides in the sun men played as boys and women Were not married but let down their hair for the world I was wonderment come to fruition arrived in this land. I asked a man where this was. “This is not a place, naïve boy. This is Garafnilla, right next to the gleaming Ozuk fields. They are in a direction I do not have to point, for time will lead you there. As for here, I do not know where you have been the path you took to get here is already gone and the path to where you will go is yet to be walked here is not anywhere I can say, and as you are already in the same place as I, does it matter?” I traversed that place, a place where you do not traverse places air came In Visions of rapture, the golden leaves of twilight and embattled crags of stone Lifted their hats to me as I passed Down the halls of silver Dreams I strode along in solitude my mind consumed by emotions heart eaten by thoughts spirit taken by good intentions The purple fly was on the wall no moreso than I passing into places where places are not real or dissolute, I came To find my love in a handbag of  Bobby pins the gleaming Ozuk fields Of Garafnilla stood before me, stretching out into the sunset Gleaming pale and soft Inviting would it hurt to play on those fields, pale, soft, inviting? I knew my part better Than that though, and so I could not go there Those fields beyond the boundaries of Fantasia and woven cotton I came back to this place where I had died but lived in life as others do and Not as others don’t my Life was back in place, but the space could not Forget what had occurred. Where was I? Am I here? Is this place my living where was I before where am I heading? As I am with you now, does it matter? Will that path come as I see or  Will It falter into the grasslands I have Known? Overgrown, alone the path lies deep in seed No man ate of the berries, and they have sown themselves Love how Can I ask you will You love me does It matter to you know I do tell you what is  True love is Who and with without my Leaving from such places ate my obliv ion in to  bei ng a different shape, a new space of luxury and pain to dwindle in the year s to come soon Leave me at your gate and I will know my heart is a plate for all the king’s horses and fools to romp on with joy in the gleaming Ozuk fields of Garafnilla your skin so pale Mark Burton Sunday, February 11, 2001 10:06 P.M.