Deep Cries Out to Deep.

I'll be lost in the woods by the fire light, child

don't come to look, don't seek to wander or stray

I am given over to the rushing river,

set to watch the water move from far within

deep in the shade of brush and limb

where wolves linger and call, the trees loom tall, and

the owls holler to the night overhead.

Should it come as a surprise

that I have made my lonesome bed

deep in a tangle of mountains

steadfast in the heart of some darkened cave

and now therein I have chosen to lay?

my heart is tired, let me rest.

and the whole earth is quieted but for the crackle of dry wood

burning to cinders and smoldering ash

laying soft and dead like the heaping thrush beneath aching feet,

cold like the wind that goes whispering through the leaves

high and lofty in the living, breathing trees

and but for the moon and this dying fire,

I should never know light, only starved desire

were it not for this blanket of unwavering heat

that I cannot ignore, forced to rise... or retreat

and it comes in waves,

consuming starless night like burning day

to glimpse of hope, nestled in a forest deep.