let my thoughts be carried high
like beech trees reaching
naked branches to the sky
as are these dreams of mine
naked in themselves
from time to time,
their form rooted in the earth
held down as such
only to serve
as reminder to impart
for in the greenwood
grows first the heart.
the last forest weeps
for its wayward child
who dropped from the trees
and deserted the wild
to level the mountains
and the hills and the plains
which now bent to his plans
with a will unrestrained
threaten the verdant
the motherly green
till the last forest weeps
upon what might have been
out in the woods
where the wild boars meet
and rustle
I came across him staring
up among the fear dressed trees
a gaze as dead as stone
and twice as still
passed through me
and a primordial shiver
tingled
within the deepest
oldest and hidden corners
of my psyche
a remembrance
though not strictly mine
of skyfalling, worldending
blood and claw,
the passing millenia
may have turned the tables
somewhat
but this is his realm
and in it
I am but prey
the blighters rock 