None but a handful could understand
Why I often go back,
to the bosom of my beloved mountains,
Where the trees grow thick,
On its mossy grounds,
Where a cacophony of
Birds chirping and cicadas singing,
Where owls hoot at night,
And frogs croak even at daytime,
Where streams flow dreamily
To where rivers run,
Often ending into waterfalls,
Where the sun could glimpse,
Creating rainbows as the waters
Splash and dance.
Up there I embrace-
My truth, my passion
And the fears I hide inside,
Out there I get lost, willingly cry,
Howl my lament to the Moon at night.
Out there I've died many times,
But like my beloved Trees,
Experienced rebirth in countless ways,
In countless times.
The Trees will always listen,
The creatures there
Will never judge me,
The grounds will accept
Each tear that fall,
The rivers shall cleanse me,
And the waterfalls refresh my Soul.
~Estelle~
09042021
0904H
