The Wilderness

These woods, these trees, in winter's deep,
tread not or so I'm told,
for this is where The Wilderness lives

Hours have passed, the day long gone,
twilight beckons,
am I tired?

Shadows closer, darkness thick,
it's quiet, somber, strange,
am I afraid?

My sanctuary! The way back home,
my fear is lifting,
am I safe?

Followed quickly but soon to fade,
the path no more,
am I astray?

Go forth? Retreat?
Grim choices both,
am I nervous?

I stumble, stand, repeat,
keep onwards,
am I alone?

A whisper or the wind?
Mind plays tricks,
am I confused?

Amongst the trees,
boughs and branches, boughs and branches,
am I lost?

A clearing, space to breathe,
silence, except my heart,
am I panicked?

A sudden flash, a flame, but black?
A frightful heat engulfs,
am I dazed?

I stop and stare, the legend true,
is this The Wilderness?
Am I frozen?

Now ablaze, the forest lives,
is this my end?
Am I asleep?

A daydream trance?
Imagined fate?
Am I awake?

Mourning, sorrow,
dreadful pain,
am I hurting?

Forever changed,
the forest grieves,
am I sorry?

Dawn's first light shows,
comfort nearing,
am I relieved?

Familiar ground,
shadows retreat,
am I content?

A final vale, a farewell glance?
Not now, I've seen my share,
for this is where The Wilderness lives.

David Thackwell

View on Adobe Spark