"He stopped, thinking then on a day years behind them. There had been a sun then, in the sky, made of orange and gold; and clouds, too, he recalled, laden with mist. They had made a promise there, and he believed it, and so did she. But that was before the days without the sun. Years had passed, since the day they ran laughing through fields of golden grain, barley stalks heavy to fall, ripe and bursting with life, even as they had been. There had been love in the world, and little had they to do with anything else. Strange, how the mind, when turning to glance backward at the past, sees only that which is most pleasant in the memory of that it aches to find in the present. Lovers, they were; lovers of sunshine and laughing rain, of running with the deer in the forest as the dawn rises kingly in front, the night fleeing behind them. So much had been in reach, when together was now; now the sun was gone, and only cold moonlight remained. Shadows, everything had become; shadows of sadness, emotions wispy as dry grass, pale in comparison with what had once passed between them. And he knew that love was more than an emotion. Hatred can be felt and no longer felt, as can happiness; sadness can be and cannot be, as can fear. Love Is."
-Inspired by Sting's Fields of Gold ©2010 J. William English