You remember it, don’t you?
When the woods was all there was.
Those woods went on forever.
You couldn’t imagine their limit.
So you set out to see them, the woods that never end.
As they unraveled, they became familiar. Though at first it was all new.
The pattern of the trees. The rocks and the rises. The way the water wound on its way to wherever.
Through steadiness and study those woods became familiar.
As they became familiar, your heaven they also became.
It didn’t happen in a day. It took years of walking.
But you eventually found their edge. That’s when it occurred to you.
The woods had shrunk. Because you knew every corner.
They had lost their shine. Because you discovered their secrets.
Those woods, you came to realize, were just like other woods.
So you settled in to survive them.
They became part of the hum. The hum that wasn’t there before but now seemed to be everywhere.
And that tightness in your chest was new and grew.
Was it something shortening your breath or gripping your spine?
It was both. And it was invisible.
Just like you felt as you wondered where the woods had gone, and if you were every really in wonder of them at all.
But there was always that voice, that wind through the trees that you could no longer see.
It said, I am the woods. You think you know my secrets.
But that’s just what you can see.
For I am the woods. I go on forever, in ways you might yet learn.
When you think you’ve found my limits you’ve only found your own.
Which is where my best parts begin.
As do yours.
