Into the Murk

Into the Murk

Meander...meander
Near nothing is grander
Than melting into the mirk.
Wandering...wandering
Racing, unpondering
Watchers that everywhere lurk.

Neath braided branch ceiling
There's none like the feeling
Of soles upon moss smothered floor,
At home in the hush
Of dark underbrush
Tis there I could dance ever more.

My wings have gone flightless
My soul has gone lightless
So into the sunless I flee.
To delve into dark
Unburdens the heart;
Tis there I can truly be me.

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