Hidden Grotto

The sun has risen and is breaking the trees, Where you see the beams separate the leaves. There fly fae, as you say, providing the way. With lies that warm the skin and comfort souls, Butterflies in droves leave before it gets hot. For the density of the canopy hides a grove, A secluded grotto of mysterious intent, All who wander in are lost. All who wander out have found, a part– -of themselves, long forgotten. For the first step into the grotto removes- -all wear from your feet. Pains of a hundred miles relieved. The fruit off the vine has no name, Yet will fill a man for days to come, Invoking the tastes of childhood, and smells of freshness. On the shores of icy water, refreshed. the sun shinies through yet bares no warmth. The air holds suspense, as a tick holds a moment, slowed to a snail's pace, the movement of time. Wading further into this grove feels divine. When sounds of cicadas starts to uproar, Down from the canopy, a glimpse, she soars. Beyond comprehension; a cloud made of a million bugs Shining, and dazzling with gemstone hues. A school zipping and glistening around the air. Ebbing and flowing above, riding and growing Wider than an elephant she blocks out all the light. Humming and glowing she is the night. Hip deep in waters now numbing, a helplessness inside starts coming. With a flurry of tiny winged fury dropping. Death seems to be the only option, With tightly closed eyes comes the dive. Submerged below, the film between the surfaces dissipates. Now suspended in the dark, unable to tell, If an illusion is there, reaching, to grab anything, Through pinholes of vision illuminating fear, Warm amber glowing and drawing near, a beautiful lady has now appeared. Skin of olive, and eyes of jasper. Face of a Fox, long hickory silk sprouting all around her. Glowing, flowing, lush, and cascading. Perfect in every aspect, made of pure gold For this soul reaches out with hands of old In a space such as this, where few have ever wandered. Attention is what fuels her. Fixated. The fear that has stricken the soul is love incarnate, The ignition point all youths have felt for millenia. Worn soft as velvet, this spirit just wants to hold. Unopposed, the shock is washed away upon a touch. Drawing in flush, her flesh onto mine, for the first time. Pain of a hundred years is washed away. “Thank you,” she says.

The moon has risen and reflecting upon the water. Shimmering around you are small striders, Laying in this warm pond of vivid emotions. Looking up to the sky, stars begin to fall, float, then fly. You reflect on what is now past, wondering, How you will ever return, wondering, why. How even in this moment of retreat, the hardest word is “goodbye”