What is love,
if not told to the heavens?
What I feel for you,
is locked deep in the ocean.
The more I know you,
the Deeper I go into your forest.
What I want is not empty,
like weathered plains.
It’s not murky nor dead,
as I step through your swampy past.
It’s whole and true,
as the smell of rain in April.
Its beauty is among the sun,
in spring.
All I want for you,
for us.
Is an adventure,
of love everlasting.

Smell the forest’s breath
Sweet pinesap, hot brush, decay
The mountain’s flesh bleeds
sharp, fine dust; rocks clot the roads
Selfish love wounds its lover

In the quiet embrace of dawn's gentle rise,  
The sun threads golden through the branches wide.  
Between the trees, where shadows softly play,  
A dance of light ignites the waking day.

Silent beams weave through leaves' tender green,  
Crafting patterns unseen, yet so serene.  
Each ray a whisper, a story untold,  
Of warmth, of growth, of courage bold.

The trees stand tall, their roots deep and strong,  
Guiding light along a path so long.  
They teach of patience, of seasons' flow,  
How strength and grace together grow.

In shadows cast by towering might,  
The sun finds paths to share its light.  
For every heart that feels the night,  
A dawn will break, dispelling fright.

So stand like trees, reach for the sky,  
Let sunlight in, let shadows lie.  
For in each moment's fleeting grace,  
The sun reveals life's hidden place.

A tree uprooted,

mud, a crack in the rock-ledge –


and clear spring water!

Under a temple of sequoia,
I do not fear your ravenous wild
which lives in everything—
flowering desire.

What drives my folly
drips longingly with mad nectar,
finds your mystery alive in my eyes,
mystery coloured in vibrant azalea.

There is no forest, just
deciduous portals to other worlds.

Beneath an outgrowing meadow
of detritus, decay has a lurid scent
of pine that lingers; And your roots

guide my descent into the darkest deep,
a thousand years into the Holocene.

Show me
how to carry this endless dream.
Make me remember where
I am and will always be:

in raindrops streaming
to the understory,

in hollowed trees pulsing rivers
of sun in between,

in conifer transpiring seeds
from branch to leaf,

in earthworms relishing
the sweetness of skin,

in the enduring vision of you
that exists in the marrows
of me.

Maybe in time
touched by waterfalls of memory,
I will return to your world again—
cloaked in dirt and evergreen.

Lost in a forest
And falling into a whirlpool.
Crestfallen into the deep
As all tension is dispelled
Into a fading mist.

I find myself lost
In a forest of beryl.
Glittering and glistening
Vibrating frequencies
They pierce my very being.

Lost in a forest
Snared by roots
Transfixed in place.
I begin to melt
Like the flame melts the candle.


I find myself lost
Fading into shadowless night
Lost in the forest
Lost in her eyes.

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