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Rated: E · Other · Environment · #1700923
My feelings towards a particular wood, which we venture to all too infrequently.
So far from us you wait alone
Below the azure sky. We know your hills,
Your fields and gullies deep with secret
Promise: Our land of myth and brightness.

In the dream-time, we remember you:
We fly southward first, and then to the West,
Beyond the tips of the guardian-trunks,
Over the waters, wide though they be,
And through your veil of piercing briars.

Finally, we come upon your presence.
Nestled in the legend-roots of old, hidden
Beneath the mists of ancient mystery,
And marked by glyphs in tongues you've long outlived:
Our own, our Arcadian Atlantis.

It is here we stay and live the path
Of shining whimsy, protected from the lies
That cursed us to an end in shadow, an end
To all our virtues, loves, and memories.
That doom shall never know your sacred ways.

But inexorably, tragically,
The light-that-scorches draws upon us,
And our minds are torn away and downward
Towards the barren silt of elder earth
And we wake.

Your cool embrace lingers on within us,
Sinking deep and spreading, to the marrow
Of our minds. We feel the space discovered,
And cultivated by your your story-spell
Which grows its way on sun-ward.
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