Forest of my Heart

The forest of my heart when it belonged to the most amazing man I have ever know. For: Kevin.

         A cold breeze sweeps through the forest, scattering the golden fall leaves in a whirlwind of unimaginable beauty. A multitude of colors that represent the end of life and the coming of the harsh winter ice. Yet the perfect stillness of the undiscovered morning is like heaven as the sunlight slowly penetrates the dense vegetation to uncover a mystery someone seldom has the chance to discover. Who even less have the observational skills to notice the grand creation and magnitude of a world, that while  falling prey to human corruption and destruction, is still able to posses wonders beyond human understanding. A place untouched by men, that holds all the possibilities of adventure and love one would find in a children�'s fairy tale book. A simple glade in a rather large forest where life comes and goes as mother nature wills it and flowers of every color imaginable appear in combinations only God could fathom.

 

         (This is where I find myself when I think of you.)

 

         The earth beneath my feet is steady, a foundation strong enough to withstand every catastrophic event the universe could send its way. The leaves that fall effortlessly to the rich soil contain the memories of my life. Different shades, for different emotions, and various shapes, for the various ways in which each event shaped my life. And they blanket my foundation like a carpet meant to be walked on by only the most trusted of people. Walking, I survey the sun that has yet to fully light the refuge I find myself constantly running to each day. It rises, slowly and with some hesitation as it represents my current feelings on life and a future that could hold only hardship and pain. But the sky is clear and baby blue as it represents my inner re-assurance and faith in a future that could hold many good surprises, perhaps even happiness. Yet, clouds hover in the distance,  revealing the fact that my emotions can change in an instant, sending forth a storm of conflicting thoughts that could turn my serenity into a burning inferno of despair.

         A feather falls from the unstable sky, lightly drifting on the gentle breeze that is ever present in the midst of my dreams. Being guided by the one element that gives me a reason to live and belief in the reality in which I exist. A wind that is fueled by hope, a feeling I once thought I had lost, that now consumes my soul whether I will it or not. This wind of hope that cleanses my forest unwavering is just another part in the intricate design of my life, this hidden world of mine. A complex place now sheltered by numerous species of trees that you carefully planted. To protect unspoken wishes you wish to make come true. Standing alone in this glade, I view the beauty I watch you create.     

         (This is where I find myself when I think of you.)

 

         I walk towards a small stream, by placing one foot in front of the other in a rhythmic flowing motion. Looking around, I sense peace and contentment with my world as the branches lift upward in respect so I need not bow my head to pass under them. Stopping when I reach the stream, I kneel and sit at the water�'s edge. Pebbles line the stream�'s bed, gleaming as a rainbow of gems, so intense and hypnotic, one cannot help but to try and reach out to touch it. Coming back to my senses as my hand comes into contact with the ice cold water, and the gems shine with laughter as they sit nestled in the sand just outside of my arms reach. My attention taken away as I catch sight of a fish darting upstream. Almost mythical in a sense, as its fins flow outward spanning twice the length of its body. Like a butterfly underwater with whiskers that cause it to resemble one of China�'s ancient dragons. It swims effortlessly towards its destination, following no direct path north, out of view and taking my line of sight with it. To where the stream disappears into the line of Red Woods and into the shadows beyond.

         (This is how I feel when I think of you.)

 

         Staring into the darkness I quickly become consumed by its lingering presence, my heart begins to beat rapidly and chaos invades my thoughts. But before I have a chance to act in panic I see a light that outlines a figure unknown, yet familiar in a radiant soft glow. A figure that commands light with such a force that it drives darkness into a state of cowardly shadows, which it rules over unquestioned. Light prevails and darkness will never be strong enough to conquer the doubt that from time to time arises in my heart.

        

         (This is how I feel when I think of you.)

 

The figure emerges, a tall man mounted upon a giant steed. Dapple gray, with strong legs and feathered hooves that are adorned with silver shoes. A crimson saddle blanket decorated with a floral design set in silver strands upon golden leaflets keep the finely oiled saddle from chaffing the stallions broad back. While its long flowing blue roan mane and tail are like a caressing waterfall that taunts to brush the ground in a silken taste of ecstasy. As the bridle adorning its face confines its movements, it only helps to frame the horse�'s perfect bone structure and accent its courageous, yet trusting eyes that still gleam with a certain untamed wildness that reminds people that he is a horse bred to be ridden by kings. He is reined to a halt and he extends his right foreleg in protest as he paws the ground in defiance, only to then lower his head in silent acknowledgement of reaching a point where one is to stand still and command attention. His nostrils flare as he breathes heavily, releasing a cloud of mist in the cold morning air. And this stallion stands unmatched as the ideal perfection of his entire species, only second to the one who commands him. A man who sits steady and tall in the saddle with such pride and strength as to be able to earn the loyalty of such an unattainable beast.

 

         (This is what I think of when I think of you.)

 

Striking in his ability to rein in such a powerful animal with such strength and gentleness that reveals the basis of his personality. He continues to stay at a stand still, horse shifting beneath him as he turn his steed to the left in a magnificent display that would cause any woman, or man to stare in awe. Turning only once, to come to rest once again where he had been mere seconds before. But the spinning flash of silver from the precise movements of the stallion, and the unimaginable flip of the prince�'s cape and hair as the wind moved in step with them both was an image that brought forth deep respect and honor for this ghostly pair. And in the instant that followed, I rose and tried to call out for them not to leave. Believing that they were just a conjured vision that would wisp away with the remnants of the passing wind. About ready to cry in despair as this beauty I was gifted to see was taken away from me as quickly as it had appeared.  I held my hands together at my heart as another breeze swept through the now heavily populated forest. Causing my hair and dress to flow forward in a tangled sea of velvet greens and autumn reds. But when the wind had come and gone, the man and his horse still stood fixed, both alert and knowledgeable of my presence. Then he beckoned his mount forward and the warhorse moved elegantly towards me, showing unusual class and balance one would find in a carriage horse, not the violent rash movements of a horse bred to kill. He approached the glade and as he rode past the tree lines, the sunlight illuminated his features into exquisite detail. Wearing plain riding leathers that, while dull and un-decorated, made his features and jewels all the more intense. Tall black boots that rose up to his knees were worn with the elements but made to protect his lower legs in combat. Shown by the various diagonal lines cut into them that created an intricate although unintentional piece of art. His sword hung low on his hips, and although hidden in an old deer skin sheath, the hilt was the key symbol that gave away his now obvious lineage. The sword was so silver, it was almost white. It was somewhat painful to look at, as its ends were embedded with sapphires the size of small rocks and diamonds that scaled its entirety by the hundreds. Making Excalibur look like a rusted antique. Following the hilt of his sword upward to his chest, where a small pendant lay, I noticed he wore his coat of arms and the cross of his Christian beliefs. It hung from a strand of leather that he wore around his neck, along with the cape that sat evenly atop his broad shoulders. Dark blue in color, it was plain except for the outline of a unicorn that was sewn into the two bottom corners. The mark of Morgana le Fey, stating he was a knight and protector of the sacred beast upon which his sorceress rode.

 

         (This is what I think of when I think of you.)

 

         Now, within a hundred feet of my soul, I could see his face. Eyes so hazel, you could see not only the deepest ocean, but the densest forest and the driest desert in them as well. A mixture of brown, blue and green that while not solid, gave variety that became more desirable as one fell into them. His jaw line defined yet smooth connected ones line of sight from his lips to his ear lobes. Where a single silver hoop dangled to protect him from dark magic. Only visible when his long locks of auburn hair was brushed back by some force of gravity. He was like an angel, and one could imagine magnificent wing stretching from his back to the ground beneath his steed clearly outlined in the damp air. An unchallenged warrior only God could give orders to, and who Hell feared to the Devil�'s dismay.

(This is what I think of when I think of you.)

END.