Wander

Had an amazing walk in the forest and came up with this. I think that I may start a book... why not right?

Wandering in the wilderness.

The wildness of my soul.

The trees are dead and black.

Earth muddy and poisoned.

Winter air that is bitter and cold.

Wandering this endless forest.

Alone and scared.

No hope of finding a way out.

Trip and fall into the cold mud. 

Get back up and continue.

My hopeless journey. 

I find a path, why is there a path here?

Follows it.

Feels the gentle kiss of warm air on my face.

Trees begin to look vibrant, green and alive.

The earth seems healthily and strong. 

Continuing down this path, there is hope.

Down this path, there is happiness.

Down this path is life.

 

Reviews

[Chris Shaw]

When I read this I thought of the light at the end of the tunnel. Moving from a state of depression into the land of the living and light. Your poem ends with hope for the future and optimism.