The merest of isolations
With the purity of a newborn soul
I glide through the woods,
As I allow the innocent melodies,
to tickle my ears.
I allow myself to breathe,
in and out,
That is all I must do in this nature,
oh so gracious!
The virtuous mother glorified the surroundings,
As she glorified me with the precious
breath of air.
So I stood.
In the middle and stared.
I stared through the naked branches.
I stared at the face in the sky,
as it stared back at me,
like the eye of the Cyclopse
under a magnifying lense.
There I stood...