Reaching out, freely; spreading your wings,
Feeling for whatever prospects life brings.
Quenching your thirst through the unlit, unknown,
Extending; begging, for somewhere called home.
Sometimes it feels like a bottomless hole,
You’re grasping and hoping, you’re saving your soul.
Every dark corner is there for the taking,
Waiting for luminance, newly awakening.
There once were three sisters,
Three sisters, yes, three!
Their lives, fun and blissful,
Delightful, carefree.
Each day they would dance,
They would prance in the wood,
The wild joy of innocence,
Of charming childhood.
Hidden Shafts Of Light
Concealed in every forest,
Find hidden shafts of light,
They’re only seen on sunny days,
Or when the moon shines bright.
Every nook & cranny
Gets to glimmer in the end,
When hopeful beacons gain the chance
To be the light shaft’s friend.
Wounded, stark boughs, limbs that have toiled,
Worked through the land, weathered & spoiled.
Cracked, open surfaces,
battered & broken,
No twisted hedge tales are heard, or yet spoken.
Arthritic forms reach high for salvation,
Desperately seeking their rightful ovation.
I tell all my secrets to wizened old trees,
They capture them, whispering, past leaves on the breeze.
My secrets seep slowly through gnarled, crusty bark,
Creep under their roots where it’s damp, cool & dark.
Trees will not share trust, though they’ll rustle & quiver,
On cold winter days boughs will rattle & shiver.
