Wet grass under my shoes, white mist around the towers. I hear the field from here, one breath outside the sound. The sky begins to show me without asking me to hide. I step into the voices, I feel them cross my skin. I don't have to leave myself to let the whole world in. We rise into a second sunrise, wide awake, white mist in the sky. Let the field carry my voice at dawn— I am here, I don't disappear in the light. Now shoulders turn around me, the ground moves under all. I keep my own direction inside the moving wall. No perfect morning waiting, no promise I can fake. Just every fault still with me and every step I take. I step into the voices, and still I know my sound. The higher that they carry me, the more I feel my ground. We rise into a second sunrise, wide awake, white mist in the sky. Let the field carry my voice at dawn— I am here, I don't disappear in the light. The field falls to a whisper, the floodlights fade to grey. Wet grass beneath my bare feet, the towers catch the day. I turn into the morning— I choose my way. We rise into a second sunrise— I cross the field into the light. I choose my way.
