Heart/Forest
To think, my heart is the forest
It basks beneath the sunshine
Yet only shafts of light enter its domain.
It is as it is, the forest
One enters uncertainty
That once the surest foot
Treads with trepidation.
For to be lost in the forest
Is most confusing, and dangerous;
One does not stop, or ponder the forest
He wanders the paths
And sees the wildlife
And stares at the streams
And gazes at the trees.
Is it the forest that makes the trees
Or the trees that make the forest?
No answer. The forest never answers
It beats to its own drum
And flows of its own.
The forest does not want, does not give
Freely, for freedom has its price
And that price is another
To make its own
Wafting vines of union
Binding their roots, two forests together.
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
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