I run endlessly to an end. The chocolate colored dirt shifts under the pressure of my bare feet. Trees stand so tall and are rooted so steadily in the ground. My hair sways in the wind, just as their branches do, triggering each of my senses so beautifully. The bright hues of the sky mingle elegantly with the dullness of the earth. Sunrays fall as a blanket of gold upon the greenery.

I'm a part of that which surrounds me, breathing in the air that each plant breathes out. I am a part of grounds that run for thousands of miles, travelling through the narrow streets of Spain, treading across Egypt's desert, and climbing up the Swiss Alps. I drink a glass of the ocean each morning and bite a piece off the red sweetness of a tree. Yet others fail to recognize its need to remain.

My run comes to an end just as a busy street begins. I am no longer free. I am a product of a factory; criticized for how I choose to dress, judged based on the color of my skin and taught to behave identically to others or face torment. I must cross the street a light's command and wait in a long line to purchase plastic food at a price I'm unsatisfied with, yet forced to compromise. Tall buildings are set in an exact grid pattern. My environment flickers quickly between affluence and poverty. Gloom and misery lies in the cracks of these sidewalks, it's etched in the wrinkles on a homeless man's face. I must learn certain rules set by those who oppress, seeking for power and might. Don't ask about anyone's story, never look into their eyes.These rules of conduct control who we are and scare us into conforming.

I turn around running back into the bushes then out to freedom again. Laying down on the meadow-like grass, I whisper to the earth, "you are my only home."