The sentence structure is deliberate. This is about an image I've carried around in my mind for a long time.

A forest like an emerald, each facet glimmering with life and dancing with light. Dewdrops like tears. Lush ferns swooning over the ground. Fresh soil that emanates the richest smells of nature. Birdsong like the sweetest water. Blankets of tree canopies that hide the forest from the sky. A gentle, delicate mist that swirls everywhere.

I walk there, the air sweeping along me with caring hands. Moss and stone and soil sags beneath my feet. Every sound becomes a note in a melody that lulls me forward, and I gladly come. My destiny is close. It is the destiny that has haunted me in the form of a seemingly insignificant vision within my mind for years.

Ferns brush against my pale hands, cleansing them with their dew. A carefree wind winds silently around tree trunks, fern fingers and myself, whispering with promises. It is close.

My eyes see the world sharper than ever before. I have become a thing of nature, bound by the instinct to walk on, to follow a path I do not even know.

There it is. A piercing shaft of pure light strikes it. A font. With a milky dress that spills near my ankles, I circle the object that I have journeyed through this spirited forest to find. I kneel beside it. It is a rough, yet skilful stone. It lies on a cracked column, its base running and stretching into the ground like the roots of the trees that guard it. At first I am hesitant to touch the mirror lake of unadulterated water held in the font's cradle. But I am drawn to it. Quivering fingers reach out for it. They feel an ice cold caress as they sink in. Coarseness as they brush the bottom. I pull myself up, leaning against the stone for support-for my strength has slipped away-and gaze into the ruffled pool. I see my reflection; I see Nature. The forest has me now. I belong to it. My spirit, dark and tainted, has been cleansed by nature's purity. My soul will wander this beautiful place forever.

I love what I am.