words Perch on filtered sunlight,
shadows dance with rhythm of swaying
distance, dead wind caresses.
You are welcome to trek inside,
to bring unknown sounds with your
alluring footsteps on the fallen leaves.
A message will whisper into the
thick embracing branches. Forest has
a bewildered heart, no ears. Eons
will preserve your coming in cloying
music of unehanced proximity. You
have to leave, trees will die, saplings
will green with enchanted survival, mutinous
rings will note your departure
in non committal dignity.
Losing intimate words is like small
unwoven paths there. Life hustles, love
dies, it always becomes too late for
the birds to reach the Sky and lose
their way to a sunset, a hungry palate
of silence colouring the existence, the Sky.
Silence is the wired torsos, unseen
roots, the shivering leaves, the spreading
branches and finally the whole cartography
of a crowded green canopy. You have to leave
before it is dark, before you miss the chosen
direction. In the surreal presence of
eternal loss, the forest will note life stories,
emoting unbearable heartbeats, from afar.