descent-2

IV. Shadow

Ground soft, Forgiving,
                         gently sloping,
                         thickly padded with Moss and Hume.
            little Light Falls:
                                   no sun,
                            only Amber mist.
straight and sheer, the Trees are living
              Pillars, hoping to hold the Light
                        above the Ground, the Gloom
                         in semblance of Night.
Clearings Open, here and there,
            pores, maggot-holes in the Skin of Leaves,
                                                          of Trees.
and this is where Light strikes the Ground,
                        giving Life to carpeted
                                                            Ferns,
            Trees in miniature,
                        drinking the Glow bleeding Down.
            Cliffs of bark,
                        Forests wall the fields of Fern
beneath the burn of Sunset Fire,
                                 seeming Night.
The           Path          Is           Gone.

V. Silence

     if Trees are Life,
      then
               they are the Only Life Here.
      Silence
                  Reigns.
      Carpeted earth
                             absorbs
                             footsteps
                                             softly.
      Silence
                  Speaks.
      it speaks
                       of . . .
                       Nothing.
      nothing Lives
                             save the wanderer.
      no Tracks,
                       no Spoor,
                                       no Prey,
                                                      no Hunt.
Where         Is           The           Path?

VI. Ascent

H                                                      hurry
                                                  run Faster
U                                           Throat
                                          Seizes
R                                    Panic
                                 in Fear
R                          hurry
                      no sound
Y               leads Up
           over There
!   the Path
The         Path,       My       Savior.
                                                    (Escape)

VII. Keeper

Keeper?
            . . . a Watcher, really.
not acquisition,
            but -- Observation.
                                            truly.
when Someone comes,
                                     he is Seen.
as he Descends,
                                     he is Felt.
below the Green,
                          (rather, Black),
                                     Tasted,
                                     Heard,
                                     Smelt.
and Planted with a Need
                                      to return Someday,
                                      to the Mists
                                          the Trees
that Reflect the Day as it draws to an End.
            For I Am the Keeper of the Mists.
            And I Greet Those Who Come Back.
The Path Seems Narrower, Then.