Not exactly Malachi...........

Where I lived as a little kid, you couldn't go more than quarter mile in any direction without running into a corn field. Consequently, much of my early youth was spent running down the seemingly endless rows of corn, intentionally getting "lost" in the maze of maize. I still vividly remember the almost immediate feeling of isolation I would get by striding only a few yards into the tall, green stalks...........the beckoning of the "path" before me leading to places unknown...........the peaceful quite created by the insulating effect of a million leaves..........the odd feeling of disorientation when I would finally emerge............and the hope that where it had lead me would be a new, exciting place. It never was. I'd find myself, typically, about fifty yards from where I had entered. I'd return home with a sense that if I had only gone a bit further, I'd have found that place I believe lied "on the other side". Eventually, I emerged from the stalks for the last time. I suppose the dreams of a wondrous new world on the other side of a cornfield can only be dashed so many times before you abandon them forever. I'd like to think, however, that the child I once was still runs headlong down the neat rows, sure of something magical in the unseen distance.