65. Mystic Forest (65)

From the dawn of time,
The mystics brew.
Through the depths of the mist and the ferns with dew,
The spiders web reflects the light
And the dewdrops to the soil returns to life,
Embodied in light and hidden from view.
The Maiden rises from the mist and dew,
Stretching forth towards the canopy of light…
To touch the green of disguise of shadows to fight!
To clothe from fauna, velvet screen,
With imagination shapes and dream…
She walks the forest her long auburn hair,
Her eyes; a colour from the leaves she stares…
The grey-brown bark protects her soul
And rides to perfection her spiritual ball.
The morning mists, from sleep doth grow,
From the warming day and embers brush,
To the lightning strike a mystics touch…
A stranger born from a distant past,
grows through the entangled winding plants…
A sea of trees crashing tides of leaves,
She transcends, to step upon the soils intrigues…
With mist defusing light, she sees…
The sunlight endorses the darkened shadows,
He reaches out a gestures bow!
As he takes her hand hesitation will not allow…
Disappearing within the mists of tomorrow,
For Spring foretells the forest tale.
The embodiment of life, of myth detail;
Echoes of voices of humanities endeavours
To announce natures message of redemption and flowers.