to choose the forest is to be
lost, and lost in the trees
guided by stars, not to a journey
but turning to some place worth exploring
you loved life with your being
and passed the forest for its trees;
the string of red ribbons happens to be
constellations within the captive sea
but lost you were with your own
itself ripped apart of definition
looking back, its love brings you
back to its original destination
though their signposts lead to more obstacles
and landmarks fetter into miserable,
its fractures into a blissful wonder
in place of stars for faded luster