Holiness is there where the druidic Shadows of the pines rise straight and tall and dark against The languishing light of day
Fire streaked across the sky And all the peaks beneath Graying into the silence of the night
Treading the needles underneath And how the orange-red remnants of the sun push through the Empty spaces recessed within the forest's soul, Motionless bodies of the conifers solemn like The standing stones of old
And dusk comes in quiet through the timber now
And there is no more hiding, No more striving and trying, Just the gentle truth that
We are all dying
And this forest, Climbing wide across the ravines into the mountains Holds me without possession
And it would let me go Like the yellowed leaves that scatter on the earthen floor Like the last glow of the evening sun Touching canopies of crimson and gold
And there is this letting go that feels like home.
Like I could reach across this void and hold my motherβs hand Like these cliffs might drop to the open moorland of the Isles