Water slipping through my hands like

traces of emotions and past memories.

Where were you when I cried that night,

alone in the darkening woods?

I heard your voice across the

babbling brook whispering ancient secrets

in its fluid language.

You have no such secrets.

But I have secrets.

Yes in the nighttime my embrace wept blood.

Blood for you and your wicked ways,

your carefully crafted tales and constructed phrases

of love, hope, and the future.

Yet as those red tears flowed

through the twisted roots of trees older than time

you were hiding in shadows,

oblivious to the dying earth around you

and the life being reborn!

I am the forest, I am the trees

and the babbling brook

and the ancient roots.

You are just you

and you are death

without rebirth.