the mystic forest

where branches intercept what

the heavens declare

the glow streams through
the yielding trees
to add its light
to our unease

but though our minds
are restless, true –
what light we have
will have
to do

scolded by beatitude,
blessed by touch of sorrow;
forest of today’s intent,
hide my shame
tomorrow

as i live and breathe

she once said

before she just stopped