The air matches the forest deep.
Its Auburn glow weaves congestion into thick dimensions.
The grass, and leaves, and trees coexist in this moment of surreality.
A sepia trim around a coordinated portrait -
The eye cannot adjust to a moment irreplaceable.
A melting slathered teardrop falls slowly.
The tree's push this far into the sky -
Not pushing, but holding, rather.
As a weeping mother catches her child and slowly descends them.
She cannot hold forever,
and the red of scars, disaster, and reflection advents.

She let’s the child wander;
Developing.
Enveloping.
And black does become the night.
Delicate, and sluggish, this darkness falls.
Her arms can bear no more,
as the sunset-soul consumes an arcane definite.
Droning below the lake,
of which no hills sit near.
Charcoal weighing down the once prepossessing light -
of nature’s *****.

A soft whisper,
And death.

Dreams…
And guilt.

"Free us of his torment!”
Cried the leaves: post-wilted.

"He’ll devour us by his own light!”
Shrieked the trees: un-guilted.

"Why entwine such sedulous melancholia?”
Squealed the breeze: pre-juilted.

Oh! Do despair in blessedness!

Oh! Does the flora mourn for her exaltation!

But…

Oh,

Does his darkness revile the ***** soul -

In impassioned ecstasy.