Holiness is there where the druidic
Shadows of the pines rise straight and tall and dark against
The languishing light of day

Fire streaked across the sky
And all the peaks beneath
Graying into the silence of the night

Treading the needles underneath
And how the orange-red remnants of the sun push through the
Empty spaces recessed within the forest's soul,
Motionless bodies of the conifers solemn like
The standing stones of old

And dusk comes in quiet through the timber now

And there is no more hiding,
No more striving and trying,
Just the gentle truth that

We are all dying

And this forest,
Climbing wide across the ravines into the mountains
Holds me without possession

And it would let me go
Like the yellowed leaves that scatter on the earthen floor
Like the last glow of the evening sun
Touching canopies of crimson and gold

And there is this letting go that feels like home.

Like I could reach across this void and hold my mother’s hand
Like these cliffs might drop to the open moorland of the Isles

Where the ghost of my father stands

Like I am pulled back to where I began,

Like the way that it feels

Each time I lay down in your arms.