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Emerging from forest fibers, tree bark becomes skin while souls illuminate the cracks. “I wish you well.” Says the deer to the pond, never noticing the snake writhing, covered in flames beneath the mud. Quick as an arrow a breeze runs past not even bothering to stop and tell Phyllis the foxglove good morning.
The green is dripping off the leaves while the grass mimics the rainbow in a tantric storm of fire vs. dance. “No one will ever find the cruise ship.” A child’s voice whispers. Falling, falling, feet in the mud, watch out for the snake, he’s busy. The view from the water shouldn’t cause fear, never mind how it looked from the trees.
One, one, one way to where you’re going. Bubbles of rhythm float from under the rocks, a woodwind melody accompanied by iridescent percussions, try to find it and the music stops. Silence. Continue onward, no sense in turning back, that’s the royal panther’s tree. Clothing is optional but always appreciated so remember not to frequent the sand.
From the mud to the shore, the forest waits for a response, “Why am I here?” A question needs no words when an answer is volunteered. The boar shows up after a congressional herding with nothing important to say. “Walking is for the birds.” snorts the snail along the way, pay no mind to the saddle on his shell. Put your foot on the dirt and watch where it goes, the path travels for you no need for a window.
Darkness descends like snow from the clouds calling out “The coast is clear!” before the owl even had a chance. Sniff around; sniff around, till what’s missing has been found. Behind the rocks, stacked five high in a circle, that’s not your key under the mushroom’s cap. No one is home, where has badger gone? Sudden fear, static in the foliage, leaves sharing secrets.
Owl howls, moon brightens the mood. Treasure, treasure, Pandora’s Box of life. “My, my, what a pretty ferret you have.” Fox tries to be the butterfly zipping about before falling in his hole. Belladonna laughs it up feeling purple despite the blue, “Converse with the shire I need a new do.”
The forest, she lives, the rocks can feel too. Feel the earth pulsing, pupils dilating, water running, running, running. She lost her kit; he’s too old to be found. Ran off with some white vixen, she’ll tear him to pieces. The owl sits and pouts, grumpy as ever, takes a special coon to see his good side. “Just be real, it’s all beautiful.”
“Never, never, never again!” It’s a doe in the field, can still see her spots. Stay behind the leaves and try not to breathe. There’s a reason you’re here, a method to her madness, to see, to hear, to feel everything from the inside, a different view. Push back the branch, take a step forward, stop. No change. Take a deep breath, step again, she saw.
Boom, boom, boom, boom. Breathe. Continue. There are no trees, no ferns, no frogs or cicadas. There is grass, and sky, cloudless and dry. “You’ve come too far.” My, that was bold. Not a “hi, hello, how’s is your day?” just a cold stare and a “be on your way.”
“I’ll have you know, I’m no mouse” Said the cat to the bear who shows little care. “But you are a brat, so fluff off.” Giggle giggle as the creek bed trickles, over limbs and rocks and earth. Never has one seen such a vivid act of trust, to be and let be, and walk with sympathy, through a vast and ever changing wood.
Someone is here, someone will see, the ever constant beauty of what is to be. Never knowing, never showing, in a dense and eerie fog, that what’s inside can never be gone. Never meant to be seen through a flat, shallow screen. “I beg your pardon, dear good deer, but I’ll move on until bee’s year.” Come harvest moon and Orion’s beau, we always have room for an Earth soul to know. No matter the contents, the state, or the path, we all are one love, one song, and one wrath.