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Apr 2015
i make my approach,
mimicking plaintive movements
of the colossus
cloud structures migrating
across serene vastness.
-----their blue plains
-----are my green plains;
-----their source
-----is my source.
i see a silhouette
wandering on far off hill:
i wonder...
the crows leave no trace in the air.
their cawing has caught my heart
like a hook would a fish.
the unrelenting wind at my back
will not have me turn back:
i am promised to the forest.
at the edge of the trees
is a grave, modestly
marked by a small wooden cross:
perhaps it is my grave.
i enter ungracefully
into a forgotten kingdom of grace
ravaged.
the earth, so full of life,
is carpeted with death:
brown leaves crunch beneath my boots.
the webs of ivy i traverse make me feel unwelcome.
elsewhere, on trees fallen
and others not yet so,
merciless ivy and giant vines constricting.
elsewhere, the singing of birds unseen
in beauty.
the whispers of trees are
earth shattering, soul cleaving:
freeing me from my confines concrete.
everything that does not seem still
tremblesβ€”
do i seem still?
the trunks of trees are robust like my being;
i look up, their high reaches sway playfully,
gently,
as sun rays gain entry also
and remind me of my duties
which i am gift to.
it's true, my dear Emerson:
perpetual youth is found in the woods,
but we mustn't tarry too long.
thymos
Written by
thymos  u-topos
(u-topos)   
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