Mist hangs over the trees.
drops continue to fall as I make my way
down the unseen path towards the end.
The Forest's eyes are watching my
every footfall & my heart pounds
as the silence moves closer.
the grey moss hangs like giant webs
from the branches which reach from large
trunks to block out the sky and any
form of light which might try to shine through.
here the living trees are old,
old enough to have seen the beginning
and young enough to live to the end.
they wait--their hearts rotten with age.
bitterness now courses to the leaves edge
I stand in the midst and feel the stifling muskiness
somewhere there is a break in the canopy
and a breath of fresh air is felt.
there is the truth I was looking for.
I move on in that knowledge;
that in the midst of this smothering wickedness
the air and light will still show through.
my path continues and I run on.
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