The plains are wild, the plains are free, the plains are all they should be. The plains fly to meet the sky, they run away from thy. The desserts of grass be so vast, not to be conquered by he. They bound the earth endless domain, searching for land to gain. If nothing be there, plains are there waiting for something to come. They fight for land then give it up without a single word.
Its voice seems to call you, once you leave to be back. All the more you yearn for it, but every time you return, it seems to have gone. But when all hope is gone, you hear the voice again, and off you go looking for a long lost friend.
By The Unknown Seeker