A walk through the woods
reveal a solitude that I yearn,
like how snow craves a
safe spot to rest on needles
of bowing pine trees.
His howling gusts transform
into silence by a frozen lake,
where a doe scouts for
breaching grass with her fawn.
And just for a moment, as
the sun rises and illuminates
hardened beads of water
clinging to spiderwebs,
I can close my eyes and
breath in--not tobacco and
*****--but moistened earth
and rotting wood.
You are free, the woods whisper.

You find yourself alone, oh, so alone you are,
Hiding from that horrid grasp
Of breath; a roaring rasp of air
As panic rears its child of lurid dreams;
Whispering to you in a muttered verse:
“oh, so alone you are, unbeknownst to those you love,
Accept the embrace –
That warm, loving embrace –
Of solitude beyond the grave!”
You whisper to yourself,
Calming. Soothing. Let your breath breathe,
In silent, Consistent, steady beats
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven.

Let the forest hide your fear,
You know no one can hurt you here,
Wrapped around a cloth of silk,
You embrace solitude like mother’s milk.

The comforting gaze of a fire ablaze;
A roaring rasp of flame.
It nestles softly in a nest of cherry,
Kissing the eyes of new-born child laying in the grasp
Of a common saying:
“let the lost be lost!”
And so it was, the destined child in a house ablaze
Finds itself in the comforting embrace
Of lustful licking flames
Who bring the child to a peace everlasting.

The pain will never go away
Like raindrops on my cheeks
Flash flood, into a raging river
Rushing off my face; Waterfall,
A grief-stricken cascade
The pain will never go away
Weak with ailing vertigo
Swaying back and forth
Only to be stationary; Rotting,
A slow and steady decay
The pain will never go away
Raging war, of the internal kind
Dolefulness claims it's crown
Contentment held captive
Like the Seventh Crusade
The pain will never go away
No light insight, Deep in the woods
Like the blackness
On a new moon night; Cold
One degree centigrade
The pain will never go away
Hollowed, repleted with agony
Gray, A bleakness
Never truly described; This
The obscureness of dolor's grenade
It will never go away

I creep away to the woods at night,
To hide myself from the burning bright-
Glare of the sun that reaches for me,
With intent to burn away any hope I foresee.


I know that if the woods may hold me,
With the sounds and echoes that lie beneath the trees,
Then I shall find serenity,
With the souls of all those who subsist free.

Sullen and crestfallen the autumn leaves silently fell,
Mourning the loss of the pure heart set adrift within,
The bitter northern winds serving as a reticent death knell,
Grieving over the loss of the pure lass astray in deerskin.

Drawn to the forests of Myrkviðr for reasons unknown,
She wandered within the woods until all spirits were silent,
Ancient limbs reaching out to caress her delicate cheekbones,
Likening her to newborn blossoms both ****** and vibrant.

Decades have flown by like wind since that day,
Memories as faded and tattered as her deerskin,
A beautiful soul lost to time through innocent naivete,
Life continuing as it always had in the woods within.