Beyond trailing triggers
a faint sad sound delivers
bringing my mind back to town
and memory up river.

Satchel and cane,
I am so alone;
yet, I was given a bane
to climb pines attain.

Opposite of the Lord's campaign
the Cold Pine cranes.
I saw the path to town;
Yet, I felt something arcane.

Squeezing my bag's belt,
guided left and right,
  I followed the paths I felt
while the sound of distance melts.

The city of trees
greeted me with a breeze.
The solitude flew over me
bringing me to my knees.

I cast a secret promise,
among'st the forest, flawless,
that when I die
my body will become one with the lonely forest.