Secret Hollow

Deep in my soul a wound festers and bleeds,

driving me, tormenting me to break free,

from this prison that drags me to my knees,

failing myself, my heart, my deepest love.

It's like stumbling on a battlefield,

where despair's stench chokes the very air,

each breath a knife that cuts and wields,

a trap that ensnares me beyond repair.

Every step I take drags me ten miles back,

to agony gripping my every sense in torment,

a putrefying gash that throbs and sears,

excruciating pain that I can't circumvent.

I would exit this flawed reality in a flash,

where my beauty fades, and love turns virtual,

and abandon my frailty-forsaken misery in a dash,

this hollow world where only sorrow's actual.

But I must try - escape this very sphere,

of failing myself, chaining me in doubt and fear,

perhaps to find solace in a forest's embrace,

where the earth beats strong and time does not race.

As I approach a breathtaking, majestic tree,

the weight of my burden falls off my shoulder,

the rustle of his branches soothes me,

and the perfume of his wood earth is a balm, much bolder.

"You did not sprout to wither, oh dear tree,

No fiery shall ever bring you to your knees.

Your plaintive anthem, to me a mellifluous awakening,

calls to my heart, time and again.

Oh, how I envy your still, blissful shield,

holding the secrets of your immortal yield,

your tendrils sway, a Dryad's Fantasia,

whispering Greensleeves' mournful elegy.

Your crown, guarded by wise watchers of her spirit,

woven with Gaia's sweet-blended fragrances,

it touches me, soft, with orchid, jasmine, neroli,

and invites me to slumber in your shadow's descent.

But the wound still throbs, an unyielding ache,

as though I've kissed the devil's inferno,

black-hot on reluctant, blistering lips,

pulling me closer to craving oblivion.

My spirit yearns for the goddess's nectar,

seasoned in the sun's embrace so warm,

tempered steep in earth's wooden cask-in,

awaiting my trial, with no return.

Bring me a grail of exotic delights,

with the spirit of ancient drumbeats in flight,

bursting bouquets that dance on my tongue,

a kaleidoscope of sensations, never undone.

Hue-stained lips, immersed in a moment so rare,

wherein every sap, a memory passes,

with you, I'll flee to rosy depths of serene ecstasy,

where Euphoria and Lumnos whirl into one.

Cleansed of sins wrought by your arboreal merit,

I'll rest in your hold, my soul’s reborn,

my wound's torment silenced by your embrace,

as I surrender to my destiny, a sylvan enshinne.

♾️

As I draw near, your sinewy bole beckons,

I feel your warm, mystique embrace,

your rugged bark, rough and weathered,

each groove, a beating of your secrets untold.

My heart slows, syncing with your steady rhymne.

as we unveil our frail hearts to eternity,

a tender caress, a language of touch,

a silent dialogue words fail to portray.

With every sigh, I absorb more of your essence,

sensations ablaze, transcending our spirits,

I entwine in your symphony of desires,

into a sensory journey defying logic.

In the heart of the mystical forest's realm,

where ancient trees weave enchanting spells,

a woman and a tree, souls unbound,

are whispering secrets only they can share.