A soft grass field in the center of my Inner Sanctum,
On a warm and windy day,
Right as the sun starts to set.
The harmony of all the insects of the night,
The silver willows weeping in the wind,
The great bird of fire makes its last trek across the sky,
The blue sky fading into black,
Listening to nature,
Watching creatures pass,
Feeling the soft grass under me.
When I return tomorrow
I will be at peace.