The Forest

In the forest lurks the darkness, but it does not hide, it is indeed prevalent,

And it creeps from behind, front, and all sides, with no shame ever present.

As he walks the forest, of tall, stout trees.

And their leaves that dance with the wind.

A current so soft, so cold, and warm. One that is too hurried to await the night.

---

And he walks up the hills and down the hallows, and the darkness follows his steps, and it devours.

His steps sink in, and the snow sets in.

It is cold, soft, and humid.

It might even cause for there to open a tulip.

---

But in the far, deep, entrails of the forest.

There lies, a cabin, seemingly endless, and so lonely.

The light that escapes the windows, and somehow travels through the wind blows.

And the cold current that through me blows, and the strong light that somehow glows.

---

And his paces are slower, and the blowing of the wind, suddenly arrives lower.

With the coldness now hitting his thin legs, as he ever so slowly approaches bay.

And the light then seemed closer, and the warm scent suddenly took him over.

The door opened, and he was allowed in.

---

Suddenly no cold seemed cold enough, and no warmth seemed to burn enough.

But it was her that was indeed everywhere. It was her whose eyes looked at me through the window.

And it was her who was indeed a widow, a widow of the light of day which had to leave us.

And the light of the cabin slowly died down,

---

and the darkness that was her suddenly broke in.

And in her eyes, the sight of pity.

And now the only light, came from the lonely remain of that fire that had once come in.

He was only left to look at the unkempt sign, “Light of Life” it said before all light died.