Now, as i stand here,the soybean fields appear as green velvet in the sun and the golden oceans of wheat dance and glisten as the wind flutes between the rigid shafts, uttering silent secrets, as if they know something we do not. Do they? Somehow i think that even if they did have something to say to us, few would be listening. No, most of us would keep running blindly only listening to what we want to hear, and not to what needs to be said. I'm listening, laying here, drowning in this golden ocean, and even though i can't hear them i still listen, because saying something means so much more when there's someone there to hear it, otherwise your voice is easily lost, run down,stolen by the wind and crushed like the wheat during the harvest.So Now as i sit here,between the green velvet and ochre sea, i talk to the world, and even though they cannot hear me, i'd like to think they're listening.