The humming rush of water
Is hypnotizing me
The songs of lonely birds
All perched on separate trees

The soft rattling
The brush of vibrant leaves
All pull a string that's deeply
Planted in the roots of me

Chiming along
I am a lonely bird
Perched upon a tree
Where no one sees

Crying out
I sing with the clouds
Wings lifted
Ready to flee

Tentatively brush dark leaves
With muster I push on to see
Where this overgrown path
will lead

Lungs filled
Intoxicated
On the fresh
Breeze.

So drawn I push forward
What do I see
But a small part
Of what appears to be me

I step forward
One more time
I am longing
To see

Where this
Path
Will
Lead

Do I continue
Will I succeed
Do I push forward
Do I proceed

Am I lost inside
This lonely forest
Do I hide
Where no one sees

Do I wait alone
Where the silence lulls me
to hypnotic tones

Of lonely birds shown
perched upon a tree

In lap of a hollow tree a fairy sat
darning its stories to all.  
Wind played harp-like melodies.
Birds brought their company
chirping gracefully.

She spoke weaving tales
upon leaves as if parchment,
while dance of bumble bee circled.

Chipmunks scurrying stopped
to listen intently.
Owl perched self to hear
web of mystery unfold.

It was a grand moment
where peace was owned by all
of natures family.

Including a little boy who listened
with open heart nearby.

There is a forest,
Somewhere around; Nowhere.
And in this forest on a barren patch.
Is a cottage.

On one side of the cottage there is a field,
That burns through night and day.
On the other side is a river,
Where it rains from dusk till dawn.

In this small cottage,
Lives a poet and his two pets.
One a Raven; as black as night.
One a Phoenix; burning brighter then light.

They fight and tease each other.
But although the Phoenix is stronger
The Raven always gets the better of him.
So the Phoenix rages on.

Every night, the house catches on fire,
And the field of fire consumes the house.
Causing the fire to grow stronger.
And spread through the forest even more.

But at 4 am in the morning,
The raven flies up to the moon,
And commands the winds and waters,
To put the fire out of the cottage.

Every morning,
The poet re builds the right side of the house.
Making sure the next fire,
Wont be as damaging.

But one day,
The phoenix turned from a fiery red,
To a midnight blue,
And burned not only the house, but the whole forest.

The river went dry,
The forest turned to ask,
The poet could not re build.
And the Raven had no water or wind to call.

The poet had to go else where.
But could only take one pet.
And although the phoenix burned brighter,
The darkness of the raven seemed safer.

The phoenix was enraged,
He became one with the burning forest.
He rose up to the sky,
And promised to reign heavily on them with ***** of fire.

The raven protected the poet,
And called on to the night,
And with one strong swing of her wings
She blew out the fire that consumed the phoenix and the forest.

Out of the ash,
The poet could re build nothing,
But the Raven offered him protection,
Under her dark wings.

In darkest of nights,
He was protected buy the calmest.
In the heat of the fire,
He feared to burn out and cease to be.