Open Spaces

Open ends, open spaces, two sides of a coin.
Two meadows, two faces, where the other ones join.
Two seasons change places, and transform to four,
For times forgotten, and eight more.
And what of all these together?
The meadows still largely unfettered.

The question of whether
The meadows will ever
Grow green and plentiful,
Or barren and useless,
Alike or apart,
Was known from the start.

For in the heart
Of each grassy plain,
Toil the workers
Free of chains.
-Akeem Lawrence, 2/13/08