The dark forest caresses my skin with a gentle mist, a mist like love, a mist that you think is there, but as you attain to grasp, the tendrils retreat and leave you lying in vain.
They push and embrace you like a velvet sash whipping in the humid sea air, the choppy waters ebb and wake with the sounds of a deep abiding love…
Futile? For none...

The heat of the sun bears upon my back like that of a pack animals life, but the cool shadow of the rose stops to bestow me it's shade, but like a tease it is gone before my breath is bested…
What punishment is worse then this? Is it as it seems...

But the love may be there, it's peace is but wrought my soul to think it all lost. I ask and it may be the end, I withhold and it may also drop into succession towards a bitter and assumed ignorance. But I shall refuse to give, and neither lose what is there, nor gain what is to be…
Does she know? Nay, I will withhold...

I 'am Silent…