Nothing but an Illusion

I like the feel of sunrays. Especially when i am in the countryside. Or imagining myself to be there. I'm in a field, it's a spring morning, and i'm on top of the world. Or imagining myself there. There's an apple tree loaded with the brightest fruits i've seen, because i planted the tree myself. I have a treehouse, but i'm not there right now. I'm lying in the field, and birds are singing. I look for shapes in the clouds, and i see lots of things. But mostly people. I see people in the clouds, people i know and people i once thought i knew.

I breathe deeply. I love the scent of fresh grass. There's a paddock in the next field, and my favorite stallion is there. He's a son of midnight and a daughter of wind, he's nature's child. And he whinnies softly, he enjoys spring mornings just as much as i do. His mane is thick and rich, and he has flighty hooves.

Horses were never meant to be tamed. My horse is a wild horse. No saddles for him. I can't say he's my horse then, can i?

I'm wondering, what is mine then? Can i claim to be the owner of anything at all? Possibly not. I see it all fall apart in an instant. Maybe i don't belong here. Maybe i was never meant to be here. Maybe i'm not supposed to be in a grassy field on a spring morning. Maybe i'm supposed to be on a cold, dark street in winter, a scrounging, filthy thing. Maybe i'm supposed to be in a war, fighting with bitter hatred, or maybe i'm supposed to be a maid in a mansion void of warmth and love.

Maybe, i was never meant to meet people i know now. Maybe i don't deserve the friends i have. And suddenly, i realise i don't deserve many things. How do i know then, that this is really where i'm supposed to be? How do i know this is what i'm supposed to be doing?

I don't think i can ever know for certain. But i do know that i could be much much worse of than i am now.

I'm in my sunny field, and now i'm clad in rags, on the street. Or imagining myself there.