In the lonely fields of my life,
grows a solitary flower,
so appealing is its aroma,
serving me as a diversion,
day in and day out,
no matter how far I travel,
still residing close to me.
Forever rolling are the hills,
yet always there my flower,
through dungeon caves and catacombs,
near the forest edge,
or on the road home,
out beside the wastelands and lowlands,
still it is there,
my one simple sweet diversion.
Yet turbulent are my thoughts,
swirling in chaos in lush meadows,
drowning in the open fields,
falling on the steadfast ground,
does the flower see all of me,
or only my shadow?
Still forward I walk,
comforted by it's everlasting presence,
that I can't help but wonder,
whether it is one that travels,
or a thousand that share me,
to put my questions at their ease,
I approach the lone diversion,
reaching out forward so close,
I say, will you take my hand,
and travel forth with me?