In Perpetuity and Forevermore.
The wheat fields look like clouds when the dew first strikes upon them;
Until the shifting light warms their hue, and they blaze like fire before the grace of sun;
And stretching beyond the reach of the last morning star, they know not the limits of bounded root.
Instead, they hold true to that azimuth of purpose – they bend, they fold, yet ultimately rise above.
In perpetuity and forevermore…