Thickened wood in spruce entwined,
Throughout bristled straws of pine -
An abundant veil of grey confined,
Impending the fall of reason;
Ensnaring sight with silken lies.
The path therein laid heavy a track,
Pummeled annually by rain and stone.
One could walk it along with another,
But assured they would be alone.
Mindless, elaborate, weakened by simple thought -
Dregs absorb the mists of rain.
Foolish and insightless,
Imprisoned within their game.
Moss entombed - hearths neglected,
As moonlight gnawed on bones.
Withering, fading, as a matter of course,
Like ashes the wind had blown.
Enlightened by a graveside grove,
I walk alongside the benevolent breeze;
That like the reality of this Earth -
Simply makes no sense to me.