Golden brown, a lush trickle
Flows like curly, hanging moss
That tells its own story.

The creepers latch tightly, before two caverns
Black contours surround them
Darkness in the caverns, out flies an angelic flare
Into the wild.

Mountain peak rises, a ridge
It supports a twin fork crown
Down below, it gallantly holds a steed down

Red rivers, a soft powder
Decorates the salient structure
It shines and draws an infectious smile
Raising my ears and lifts my eyes.

I have been alone most of my life.
Every now and then someone would walk in, cup my chin,
give me a moments peace from the anxiety of living and not knowing how my day would end.
I could close my eyes, measured breathing into sleep.
I would dream for days, breaking only to sup and eat.
I could forget my sin and remember my goodness.  
A reprise. No need for forced politeness.
It was a break. No moving forward. Without or within.

Then, one day, I would think that I could awake, unlock my heart and carefully peer outside.
But every time my benefactor would be gone, and I was alone again.

look at the little people.
arms held high. the medicine
is in the cabinet, they cannot
reach it.

Under the weight
of loneliness
I wear the universe
like a cloak,
pressed around me,  pinned
holding me close in
its wild womb
gathering up the shards
of warm fire laughter
and voices
that weave into bones
rising in chants
pinnacles gently rocking
into a frenzy
of dark lunar dance

and my
inner moon rises
it's spackled lights
like penetrating eyes
wrapping me in its
blanket of
             stars

the candle flickers,
yet the lion’s roar grows
the wind blows slightly,
yet even the wise owl knows

that the fire of the forest,
the ever burning light
would always start small
yet grow ever so bright

as the wolves stop to howl,
and the cocoons start to crack
the old man looks out the window,
wondering what it is that he lacks