Beneath the brown earth, roots connected to my red blood vessels talk to me of hidden sorrows. Lonely is the earth, weeping tears flooding the soil as the browns turn to shades of gray and black. Reaching my shadow voice, it pulls my heartstrings to the point of such tautness, my pores weep, for I once knew a blue earth. Fog sets in to hide the greens of her mosses, and the bright reds, pinks, and yellows of her wildflowers—the dancers of existence set in motion by the tranquil breezes in the sky. Yielding categorically to her tender tug, I lay on my back while a calmness unfolds beneath me. Angels vibrate the earth’s skin, and she illuminates with a burst of colors with no names. Nature caresses me like a newborn, as God is the Maker, Father, and Finisher of all things. I am one with the earth as I am a child of God.