Fading

Sun light cuts across the tree tops throwing broken rays through the open field I'm crossing.  A murder of crows beat the sky.  Over a deafening silence, the sound of the breeze crawls it's way into my ears.  Dry wind pours softly through the meadow.  I raise my arms and run both my hands through the high, dry grass.   My eyes are glazed and weary, squinting from the fading sun.   Bringing a heavy arm in front of my face I read my GPS watch.  It's dead.  My own grasp of time, much like the watch's, has begun to slip away.  The frequent and insidious flow of thoughts that I experience in the everyday has slowed like that of a dwindling faucet.  I've slid into an ubiquitous existence.  At times hours blow by like minutes.  At others a single moment hangs seemingly forever.  This is what I came for I tell myself.  With each step greater pain sweeps up my legs, offset by a subtle and growing elation in spirit.  The wind falls away and the meadow slows it's dance.  Silence and the tree line re-swallow me.