He was standing in the middle
of a poppyfield,
surrounded by glorious colours.
To his left was a dirt road; it's curves
reaching as far as the eye could see.
To his right was a railroad track
dissappearing into the horizon.

He looked around pondering
wich way to go.
His eyes pleased with
the abundance of colours
so beautiful and peaceful.

Behind him approached
with roaring thunder,
a mighty freight train.
He was startled by this,
jolted out of his peaceful reflection.

In front of him approached
a rusty old car,
stained with timeless scars.
Peacefully moving along,
this old, beat up truck.
It made him smile
it looked so out of place
and silly.

Suddenly the poppys
around him withered,
turned to black and died.
He was upset by this
and wished he could somehow
make it stop.
He wanted all that beauty
preserved, to enjoy.

All around him
spreading faster and faster
the flowers died
and all of a sudden
he realised.
He was the point of origin,
he caused the death of beauty.
He felt a terrible jolt of shame
for an instant;
and then..
Nothing.

A wild laughter started
growing
from the core of his soul.
He laughed and laughed
and laughed.
He felt strong,
powerful and
invincible.

.....And not a all ashamed....