The Forest

In the forest where none may pass but you, the stillness envelops you and you embrace it in return. This embrace courses through your blood; it is neither a pulsing nor a pounding, but a steady stream of warmth making its home in your veins. 

The trees provide the peace you have craved and by simply receiving it, you have thanked them. As you breathe them in, you defiantly exhale your fears, reclaiming the quietude that once fed your lungs.

Your body has been stirred awake. Breathing and circulation can no longer be overlooked as ordinary life processes. They are your guides through this enchanting new setting. However, curiously, there is nothing magical or supernatural about this place. The fallen leaves you walk upon are no path of gold, nor is the chirping of the birds akin to the Sirens’ song. Its allure lies in its commonplace existence. It is a forest like any other. It is this authentic, lackluster quality that draws you in, cries out to a part of you that even you have never really known.

You kneel down tentatively to feel the earth and reassure yourself that your other senses have not deceived you. The slightest brush of your lined fingertip against the cool, yielding soil sends a jolt through your arm and you can no more deny your surroundings than a bird its wings. No longer inhibited by suspicion, you carefully but resolutely follow a path you cannot see but your legs seem to have sensed. Conscious of the solidity of your feet upon the fragile terrain, you take gentle, apologetic steps, not wishing to damage the place that has taken you in so graciously.