Musing in the woods

To sit and stare in a murky woods,

The light like vapor.

I'm nestled in roots, there is wetness and a cradle filled with slimy and gritty things.

This old towering figure offers me slumber, and a little furry tub that I thought would swindle.

No harm, with one look I twist my bones like the roots and accommodate her.

A great eruption of thought drove me here,

I see the error in naming it, eruption.

I shall name it corruption!

Perceive and accommodate wild ideas,

Act and give alms to madness.

I choose to not own perception,

I know not what owns perception.

I suppose the space that births the murky woods and the light appearing as vapor,

And the space erupting with corrupting,

That births a pure life, the furry tub.

How can I be other than this?

With awareness being transparent I am all of this.

On the sidelines of thought I find this beauty