I talked to my friends, once again, and remembered the words they say. They sing of darker things, of twisted creatures and of those that lost their way. The reminded me of something I had forgot, something lost until today.
At one point I wandered their woods, their darkened paths, and made a promise to return one day. Yet I found myself and lost that path and since then I’ve never lost myself again. Found but forsworn all at once, I wander the words in hope of that path, that place my soul was broken. Left torn on the branches of an ancient ash, in that darkened path I can’t recall, but just barely remember, that distant memory.
Oh how I miss those darkened woods, that ancient ash that I recall, that berry bush that broke my fall and gave me food and wicked dreams.
I remember the warmth of that darkened spot, those twisted ways that made one believe they were there to stay. Not believe I’d ever leave, I hung my soul upon that old tree. I remember the feel of it, that oily thing, soaked in tears and blood I’d not noticed, scratches and scars so evident, the evidence was painful to see. It made me cry anew for a while or too, until that opened the wounds to gush and ooze. I left it to heal, to dry, the ancient ash promising to help it heal in time, to sew the wounds and smooth the scars, it promised to return it, to make sure those that might knew it was mine.
o I promised to go back, to find myself again, but in doing so I lost myself, and my soul, in finding myself I lost myself, and now it begins anew. I have to find that ancient tree, that wonderful friend of mine, at least once, just to see. To see my soul hanging there, and check if its time, if it’s healed enough to once again be mine.