Old Poetry - Don't Judge!

Lying on the ground,
the moss consumes me,
as my thoughts drift far away from all digestion.
.
I feel the creeping tendrils fusing to my arms,
and their dampness enters my soul.
.
My heart throbs in time with the pulsing sun rays
that have breached the loosely knitted branches overhead.
I welcome the warmth on my face and it lingers there upon my lips
‘til the jealous evening breeze chases it away.
.
The sensations whisper “Life!”
.
I sink deeper into empty reverie, in greenery engulfed
Down
. . . . . . .Down
. . . . . . . . . . . . .Downward toward suffocation
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Drowning in the dust from which I came.
Now I’m anchored in a terrestrial sea. I will not - cannot leave.
.
“Be still.”
.
Held to its bosom, I revel in the bigness of the Earth and listen to the trickling water of the nearby stream.
.
“Peace.”
.
I lay my cheek close to the rumbling source that sounds so near and
Flesh meets flesh.
I am a child again, cradled in strong arms and reassuring words.
.
Safety is mine for a moment…
.
Then I am released and I feel nothing but the dampness of a soul of moss in twilight’s murky light. Yet, I’ve strength anew.
.
I turn withdrawal on itself
brush away the last clinging leaf,
And go about recovering my scattered thoughts
As I trod along familiar paths, back to paved and plastic life.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Back from their migration, flutter thoughts and hopes and dreams.
Brace yourself
You cannot win this confrontation.
An argument with butterflies is futile.
Beauty is their reason, sweetness their purpose.
Surrender:
Your mind is theirs to wreak their havoc
Your heart is theirs to stir
Face them bravely now
This is the butterfly effect.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
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There is a flower blooming on the wall

Half hidden in the shadow of the blind

Evasive, it’s not subject to recall,

Collecting mem'ries, with dust’s veil to bind.

.

Search for it underneath the window sill

Where faded colours conceal verity

And sunlight dances just beyond the still

Strangeness of its familiarity

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