A place beside the trees,
A vibrant place for me.
Surrounded by the leaves,
A place where I can be.

The trees don’t jeer.
The leaves don’t even ask me my name.
The wind’s blow judges not,
Whose face is graced with its kindly breath.

This is not my own however,
As many share it too,
Opened doors to whomever,
Worst of even you.

People carelessly walking,
Without the slightest aim.
The thought ever pervades my mind:
“I wonder if they feel the same?”

In this fruitful land, my greatest catharsis.
And yet, there is something not quite right here.

A gentle, creeping darkness,
Whispers in my ear:

“It is said that where you look,
You can find and see,
A place with all the answers,
The place inside your dreams.

But when all is said and done,
And nothing’s left but rot,
There was no place at all,
And you will be forgot.”