The delicate silence of the morning forest
was fractured by a rumbling groan.
Of the unknown.
The tall trees, the pine needle forest floor
seem to know.
The mortal fates that will inevitability grow.
I walked alone haunted by that guttural groan.
Why won't today let us meet tomorrow,
maybe a chance for the cease of sorrow?
The trees comfort and whisper there is a reason
we can't change yesterday,
Just rays of memories hung like leaves
upon the soul.
We can learn from the past,
clearly see the holes.
Still not enough to predict tomorrow's turn.
I accept the trees may know more than me
though on my mind the unknown burns.
Whatever is etched on our bones will be.
Forbidden to see.
The heart will still believe......