revised

The neighbor hood that i know and i love is not like yours. My neighborhood has long rows of budding pine trees and great oak trees the size of a three story building. No your neighborhood fights a battle with nature every day just to continue the way it had been going, but never knowing that it is a losing battle. Mine lives with nature it accepts the punishments that it gives it embraces them as a matter of fact. The old wooden barn once filled to the brim with corn in the summer and hay in the winter, that made my fore fathers rich off the land and dependant in the returns of their harvest. Depending on no one else but them selves. The pastures that the  corn grew in was their stock market. A slow moving game of boom and bust keeping them fat one year and having its deppresion just when things looked like they would keep going forever. That was a real neighborhood they were neighbors with every other creature that lived off of the land every frog that lived in the creek, every skunk that even at the most remote distance had some impact on you. Just like the neighbor that you hate but never know his face. Maybe it is the deer that rages through the crop and takes from you even when you don't want it to and you hate that it does it. These are the things that we cannot control. The most  damaging are the things that we can control.

                As we drove down the path through the middle of our corn field we couldn’t help but feel as if we had some how parted this seemingly endless sea of corn just for ourselves. It was empowering for some reason, that feeling of power that you get when you know that you are in control. That recklessness to push the limits of what you have established as the boundary. And just as any of us would have done we did. As we pushed harder, going, speeding along the path we felt like gods. Slowly. Everything was blurred and getting smaller and smaller until the corn was gone. Why would we dwell on this we pushed the limits and reached the other side of your nightmares. Afraid that my reality would turn into an eternal dream we began to slow. Slowly falling back into the earthly constraints of our reality. Slowly landing on what had become our runway to our dreams, slowly landing on our own truth. We were scared, did we just experience something that would corrupt our land? Would we be able to experience it again, and if not what would be the point of our animation.

                At the new dawn we tried again, going, pushing, forcing it to happen again. Wanting it to happen but the innocence was gone. The joy is gone from our lives the dream was dead the boundrary would never be reached again. The boundrary was gone at the end of our runway lay only the end, the end   of everything that I knew everything that I had expierenced and I met that end with an open embrace.