I
The tumble onto the rocks left him slowly staggering
and softly wheezing between heartbeats.

Under the trees he haphazardly felt his way
past bark, branches and moonlight.

The crunch of leaves crackled as the dim silhouettes
teased his senses; their scattered yet familiar essences
danced upon his eyelids.

II
A darkness enveloped everything.
It could have been a single minute,
or a thousand rotations around the sun.

III
Then a voice erupted, not from the wind,
not splashing down from the tallest branches,
but blossoming from within:

Stand.
These simple woods are now your home.
Tend the browns and greens
as you once did your thirst and hunger.
You are empty now, as bodiless as the wind.
Walk with eyes upon your reborn fingers.

06/10/2005

Posted on 06/11/2005
Copyright © 2025 Tom Goss