Walking through he woods

stepping with care

the brush up to my knees,

conscious of thistles, the mud, perhaps

even catching an ankle in a vine

taking a fall,

letting a branch scrape open forearms,

perhaps slamming my forehead

on rocks that lay clean

without disturbance nearly a century.

~

That occasion does arise,when the forest

remains deep in our mind,

as we navigate the confusion

in our lives,

this such is a mechanical lifestyle,

giving less credence to

the metaphysical nature of why it is,

why we are,

what the struggle means

to find our way,

the path of a chosen prophecy.

~

That epiphany I was compelled to imagine

as a child, that revelation remains in the woods

carrying upon itself the eyes of a heart and soul.

© Thom Amundsen 9/2020