The clearing in the woods is where
I find solace and solitude

I call it “the glade” as it caresses
The covert, ceaseless, controlled calmness
That captures my core and character

Like a meditative mantra,
It manumits the melancholy misery
Of mundane mortality

Quiet and still, the glade is an asylum
For amnesty, absolution and
Apology of the mind