Forest of Benevolence
I’m a half-opened shadow in a cracked mirror.
A sunken lullaby haunts a ghost ship underwater;
we all ache for underground,
for where we go when we are underfoot-
then we are untuned violins yearning for magic.
We are only as beautiful as our reflections let us become.
The voiceless whisper in me begs you to dance
beside the abundant streams of cool running water,
but my soul is written in a language you do not speak.
Ancient child, my ancient child
come rest your weary bones now,
sink your aging bones into me-
I will take you to the underground.