Teasure Among the Swaying Boughs

The tale of a connection between two beings, though we may never know who each may be.

I've seen her for quite some time now, as if she were but a mirror of myself.
She walks through these cursed forests as a nymph of the old myths would, as if she was one with every being- slivers of her heartwood birthed the sprouting trees, each tear formed the crystal springs.
Does she even have a meaning, a life, a desire? What could she possibly want from this harrowed world- is she yet another selfish servant to desire’s greed? I’ve seen it time and time again. Different faces, same expressions- serpentine eyes, plastic smiles, trigger-happy fingertips- she’s beyond all that, or so I hope.
Who’s she to invade my sanctuary, what with her dreamy-eyed gaze and shy little smile? Does she not know the suffering that lies beyond my forest’s wooden walls? No- she was that carefree, that naïve- but when we first made eye contact, I saw wisdom beyond her young age. As my eyes met hers, she simply watched before silently climbing down out of her tree- it stood for her alone, curved to the arch of her bare, delicate feet - before silently padding out of the clearing, dark locks of hair reaching to her hips.
Some say she is but a goddess of our lands. Some say she’s nothing more than a dream.
Only I have seen the flicker of the illusion for an odd half-second, the soft flesh underneath. The troubled mind and the endless bags beneath her eyes, the constant confusion and the doubt that sometimes causes her strong heart to miss a beat.
Then the goddess flickers back in place- a master of illusions, of the life within our world that’s said to be created by her own two hands- as the mask of who she thinks to be covers what lingers underneath.