The Weeping Tree

Soft grass beneath
my beating feet
is crushed as skin
and green blades meet.

There's humming
in my rushing mind,
a thought
I can't quite ever find,

which hovers
just beyond my sight--
a bit too high,
a bit too light,

a bit too
ringing, singing sweet
for my low gaze
to ever greet.

Down the valley
I run for days,
chase echoes
of a golden blaze

which lies in forests
shaded black,
'til with one step
I can't go back.

Dropping further,
the valley sighs,
pulls me into
its closing eyes

as sunlight dwindles
by the hour
and I'm swept along
in this quiet power,

a quickening thrum
of straying thoughts,
a web of voices
in which I'm caught,

dragging me deeper
into its heart,
and I'm running so fast
that I'm falling apart.

In darkness
comes the aching end
as I plunge past
one final bend

and come upon
a weeping tree.
In silence,
I find only me.