Solitude of Mind

Through the trees she weaves and awakens the
forest world in dazzling wonder around her.
She knows I watch, turns to offer me a teasing glimpse,
the mischievous wood nymph that she is,
lovely in form that she flaunts in shameless abandon,
I've seen her before in dream worlds and she seems but a reflecting mirror,
and I've longingly hoped she will reveal her internal glimmer.

Her presence commands the heart of the forest,
the intricacies of wood composing the towering trees, lichen and fresh blooms painting the decadent terrain,
sending a pulse of energy that ripples through winding river beds.
What sustains her, this creature of allure and spirit carefree?
In the near distance her laughter, echoing like cascading gold coins water-falling out of confining, rusted treasure chests.

In her laugh is heard a distinctive crushing sorrow
and I understand her beautiful wild abandon,
recognizing the vibrato in her laugh as mine.
In an instance I remember the unraveling escape,
the lock and key, clock stopping and the air growing thick and heavy
when the earth held out her hand and offered to free me.
And I was too afraid and drew away,
eyes blinking wetly.

I looked in the mirror one forlorn day, taking in my dreamy eyed gaze, the sad, brown eyes adorning the pale canvas of my face,
a shadowed secret, suffering since the shattering of my naivety.
Needing fresh, sharp air, bare feet pad away in search of sanctuary, dark strands of thick, unruly hair tumbling to my waist as I'm suddenly climbing a tree ungracefully,
to shelter in temporarily for stifled indoors and minds squeeze the life out of me.

Aiming for a solitude of mind where I can reign
as goddess of magically infused ambiguous lands.
Living in a dream within a dream saves me from me.
Endless troubles and confusion melt away for just a little while, seeping into the soft earth that drinks the emptiness thirstily.

All around me illusions conjured to set me free,
iridescent inspiration, icy streams cleansing ignorance and irate emotions kept inside, pretty indigo irises waving at me lazily,
and I close my eyes and sigh.

Reviews

[G.W. Saitreux]

Beautifully written, beautifully conveyed, the final stanza particularly resonated with me.

[D.H.Simmons]

Have no idea what its about