The Treeman

 I found this red story with a voice,
that was full of instructions,
given to me by the forest walker.

It is where I bathed in strange
conversations with the tree man.
His mind made of wood, his heart,
full of the place around him.

The forest depths are like his purity.
But I feel his restlessness.
I am headed for his power.
In the darkness my headlights go out.

It is the cabin in the wilderness, I find him.
By a lake where the big beast lives.
Where monsters walk on two legs.
Where the clouds and wind never stop.

The journey down the empty highway,
is the burden I love to carry.

Through this sea of desert, I swim.
Why do I search out the old way?

It so skillfully, and artistically
studies me, and tests me.
It is a warm feeling inside,
when the noon drips off the trees,
while the Sun glistens in the summer,
While I sit there, he comes to me.
He pops out of the bush as a coyote.
He sits on his tail and looks into me.
His ears pointed forward, he sniffs the air.

The old man hides in those eyes,
the ground around him, dark like ravens,
is his throne! The sky palace above glistens too.
Smells of sage and rain linger.

I will not hide.
I will not run.
The shadows creep up from this Earth.
They have no sources. They whisper
and talk. They bring the message.
It is the way he teaches.

The light is somewhere down below,
in the soil, under the roots of
those trees.

In the Forest this dream maker hides,
His tricks are not meant to hurt.
He walks like an old fellow in pain,
yet in the end he turns into A tree.

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