Whisper's End

Is this path I'm on the correct one? And to whom am I connected? To what? What forces drive me onward? Are these memories worth holding onto? How does one have a fresh start in such an uncertain world and in such uncertain times? There is faith, not just in the supernatural, but in nature itself, faith that somehow these paths and patterns will fold back in on themselves and all make sense in the end. Maybe it won't make sense to any of us, but if all the pieces were laid out perfectly, we would see how it all turns out. If we heed the call of the Goddess then maybe we can save ourselves.

Whisper's End

Caught in a quiet whisper

Sighing between the leaves

In the embers of a fire's reach

Lost in layers down beneath

I'd recognize it almost anywhere

That subtle perfection intertwined

That speckled splotch of moonlight painting

Your perfect beauty so divine

The Goddess of that elder woodland

That forest deep of verdant green

Valleys stuffed so deep with thicket

Branches bending scraping weeds

From the corner of my two sore eyes

I sense the presence of your love

Your figure spread like raven's wings

Your soul impossible to touch

In that stillness filled with music

The endless slumber's lonesome song

You find me here on knees still creeping

Hidden in the underbrush

A danger to myself and others

Holding torches I daren't drop

For love's lost memory still winding

Through the driest kindling and green tree tops

This animalistic remembrance

Of transformations left incomplete

Pieces of the puzzle lifted

And the promise of a hidden lust

Drinking deep the hungry water

Caught up in your cleansing light

Trapped in my personal Damascus

Visions of that holy night

Voices ripple in the river

Echoes emerging from the pond

The water filling up my lungs now

Aching to be swallowed up

Crushed under the thickened blanket

In the mists of mental fog

Crying out self-sacrificial

Dashed like a babe against the rock

In the crunch of fallen leaves I find you

In the sullen sadness of my heart

I remember that I am forsaken

That I never was enough

A beast of burden never lovely

Born through and through a lonely son

An evening star with no constellation

A cloud beneath a blood red moon

I wear this crown still unadorned

Self-immolating for your cause

Set ablaze and covered with barbed thorns

Hoping to catch your ardent call

Monstrous madness quite complete

I make myself out to be a man

And come out of the woods concussed

Dreaming of the whisper's end

(Photo Credit: Matheus Bertelli: https://www.instagram.com/bertellifotografia/ )