‘Open my eyes and allow me to behold the wealth of each curtained acre. Allow me to stand amidst the true complexity of land and hold me hostage beyond the hand of illustrations. As any mind may have it, such beauty is held too deep, so far away no ordinary soul could see. I ask you to bring forth the beauty of such things. Describe to me, young man, the definition of America . . .’
Close your eyes and open your mind. Feel that slightly chilled breeze upon your cheeks, barely rustling through your golden hair. Reach out now and grasp the unknown, hold within your hand the temperament of unrestricted air. Now breathe deeply, and allow yourself to inhale that refreshing sweetness. Only you know that its the cause of the shallow whispering of the world around you. Now, in your mind, open your eyes and look beyond that reach. As far as your eyes can see, lays an open field of amber grain. Acres and acres of an un-chartered beauty. Though, what makes such emptiness beautiful?
Behold, the white and scattered clouds, now accented by the blue sky and illuminated by the rays of purple, yellow or pink brilliance from the rising sun beyond the horizon. I witness the world grow smaller. I see, in the distance, the annually alternating colors extending from green and yellow, to orange and brown. A painted portrait of freckled or dimpled ground lies towards the horizon. Look above, a great royalty in heavens plains extending his prided wings over the appreciated air. The eagle watches carefully over his kingdom. Though it may not seem much, he prides himself with the restless content of the waving grain. The mild whispering of the wheat battling each other for unity and for serenity, for direction and for time. Though through this complexity, he watches his kingdom dance. You, alone, stand in his shallow pond of grain. When the wind picks up it creates waves of confusion. The careful breeze pushes them one way, and in restraint they push back. Though when the winds lets up they have strained so much, when they are released, they lurch into the other direction, creating an elegant swaying motion. The individual composition of form, and with the subtle motions they mold a dance of serenity.
CHAPTER 1 PHYSICAL When I look in the mirror, I see a tall guy with brown hair and blue eyes. My hair wasn't always brown though; it used to be very blonde when I was a little kid, but when I was about ten it started to fade. I have short hair that I gel once in a while when I have time. My eyes, on the other hand, have always been the same color, blue.They " re not all blue though; they have ...
You must understand, in order to visualize such beauty, a person must be willing to look further than the word America. They must break the beauty apart, to see the real reason the grass grows, the wind blows, and why freedom itself is beautiful. I compare our nation to an open field, in hopes to illustrate the openness and tranquillity each American citizen is accustomed to, and perhaps takes for granted. These beauties build our society. At their solid base, they orient the same cantankerous roots, fighting for the nutrition to grow stronger and wealthier. Though as time progresses, the wind may grow stronger with us, things we may be unaccustomed to may enter our fields, but as a Nation, we will grow stronger still. Prepared for the individual battles we may have to fight, as well as battles requiring unity, a word that no terror can withdraw . . .