(Intro)
Out beyond ideas
of wrongdoing and rightdoing —
There is a field.
I will meet you there.
⸻
(Verse 1)
Not in agreement.
Not in repair.
Not in the careful architecture
of who was right.
We have lived
balancing on a line
drawn in sand —
calling it truth.
Trying to be good.
Trying to belong.
⸻
(Pre-Drop)
But there is a place
before the verdict forms.
Before the mouth prepares defense.
Before the spine goes rigid.
A field.
⸻
(DROP 1)
There is a field.
I will meet you there.
There is a field.
I will meet you there.
⸻
(Verse 2)
In that field
you are not your worst moment.
And I am not mine.
No ledger.
No hierarchy of harm.
Just grass bending
under the weight
of our separate names.
When the soul lies down —
argument forgets its hunger.
Language thins.
Edges blur.
The word “other”
loosens in the mouth.
We think we must solve each other
before we can rest —
but rest
reveals
there was never distance.
⸻
(DROP 2)
There is a field.
We are already there.
There is a field.
We are already there.
No right.
No wrong.
Only meeting.
There is a field.
We are already there.
⸻
Rightdoing and wrongdoing
are maps for the mind.
The field is older.
Wider.
Uninjured.
⸻
(Final Lift)
Identity softens.
The need to win loosens.
The urge to correct
goes quiet.
What remains
is not indifference.
It is intimacy.
A remembering —
We were never standing apart.
⸻
(Outro)
There is a field.
There is a field.
We are already there.
AlchemistEthereal252
