When the Forest Prays

The forest prays so quietly
that even moss has learned to sigh.
Evening, weary of itself,
unravels before my eyes.

I know the weight of destiny,
never the vanity of triumph.
I carry light the way rain does;
I carry the secret of falling.

The leaves are trembling. There is no cold.
Even silence holds its breath.
Some hearts are born for noise;
mine has only learned stillness.

Little guest among the shadows,
green heartbeat at the edge of the world,
I am only a dream the earth
forgot to finish before waking.

How often I fail to understand
the ancient music leading me.
I only know that when I stand still,

the world begins to ache

for a moment...

still.