Purpose & Creation

The Restful Forest

Berry-stained, chubby little hands
cleansed by the glistening dew
as they brush past
countless branches, unawares
they could have climbed.

A scurried glimpse
gone before the rustle
my shameful wince
buried peaks under mounds
Conquered, the knowing sigh.

Right amidst, all the living and dying
Though it touches me, it stirs me not
My hollowed-out trunk
can now, be left alone
to dry, in the golden dusk.

I can't deny, It teems with charm,
and that is enough.

Let us soak in our last night's crackle
as I admire all your webs,
daring, honour matters
loosely flailing, flapping, soaring

Merry fist,

Then I too will go
without a sight,
up in your morning mist.

Suspended ever in wonder-ing,
though finally done, railing
against the inconsolable core.

That path of noble mystery
you too surely will bore.

Tear-stained, muddy, bloody skin
collapsing, trying
to keep ajar the door.

See again. Hear, dear.

And when you're tired, journeying,
know that you're almost home.

Recommended

Pre-Birth & Past-Life Regression session – Brian Weiss audio

Polonaise – Michael Andreas Häringer (Franz Liszt's great-great-great-grandson) music

As I Walked Out One Evening – W. H. Auden poem