“Go to the forest,” said the voice in the dream.
Cross the valley, ford the river, climb the mountain
walk the meadow to the far side
and enter the dark wood.
“Go to the forest,” said the voice yet again.
Standing at the edge of the meadow Layers of forest lie before me.
One step and each course pulls me deeper and deeper
Into the darkness of myself.
Magical forces hidden amongst the branches,
Otherworldly forces filling the air, thick, and heavy with the smell of decay,
Mystical forces coming up from the earth,
giving way to the darkness that is the only light in this deep, deep place.
Enchanted, strange, sorcerous, irrational
Layer upon layer passed as deeper trespasses.
The I Am breaks free the further I push through the copse of my hidden self
yet nothing seems the same in this oddly familiar place.
A crack of twig under foot. Someone waits ahead. Who is this I wonder?
The farther I travel the more I become what I am traveling into. What seemed so scary
before I started feels so much more like me than the person who first entered.
Who is it who waits ahead?
I am more myself than I was before this journey
but have gained nothing more than I’ve been already.
The forest is dark, but here my eyes shine brighter the darker I tread.
Soon, I meet myself in a small clearing, we hug in the brightest dark of this deepest wood.