Look up into cool, soft water-green
leafen shapes.
Earthen grays and browns,
that with boughs reach out and surround.
These lofty arms, hands and
wooden fingers drape
the sky as a mild, wild canopy enclosure.
They impart a misty ambiance,
all silent and palpable,
offering a living stave for the avian
creatures to create their songs upon.
The forest primeval, our ancient home.
Enter and feel your core awaken,
hear your soul whisper
long forgotten secrets,
sense your skin drinking
in the moist air like a parched traveler
arising from a desert of bone and rock.
Your intuition tells the truth:
The Mother welcomes you.