An Invitation
Upon my unforeseen arrival at the mouth of a shaded path, the trees in their green goodness wave their leafy hands as the breeze passes by, tugging at my sleeve. The wind’s soft whisper says, “Come along,” and brings with it the smell of earth and its metals, of trees and their bark and of leaves and their juices. I am drawn.
I begin to walk the corridor of lush nature, overgrown; a tunnel of life. The ground beneath my feet is not sponge and not dust, but a brown mat, decorated with dead foliage, smooth. The mystic shadows of maples mould into the empty space where nothing yet grows, and the tops of the trees, so closely touch, like emerald fabric sewn to make a lush and massive canopy.
I drift further down the narrowing path, and come across two walls of stinging nettles built strong and high on either side—dangerously close. The tiny hairs on their leaves brush my arm softly and their sting burns my skin; breaks my pace.
I look back to the open entrance, safe and charted, then ahead into the tapering tunnel, dangerous and winding. The breeze passes through me, again, the leaves curl like fingers, drawing me forth. Entranced, I follow—into my unknown.
I begin to walk the corridor of lush nature, overgrown; a tunnel of life. The ground beneath my feet is not sponge and not dust, but a brown mat, decorated with dead foliage, smooth. The mystic shadows of maples mould into the empty space where nothing yet grows, and the tops of the trees, so closely touch, like emerald fabric sewn to make a lush and massive canopy.
I drift further down the narrowing path, and come across two walls of stinging nettles built strong and high on either side—dangerously close. The tiny hairs on their leaves brush my arm softly and their sting burns my skin; breaks my pace.
I look back to the open entrance, safe and charted, then ahead into the tapering tunnel, dangerous and winding. The breeze passes through me, again, the leaves curl like fingers, drawing me forth. Entranced, I follow—into my unknown.