7/23/08

standing in the woods
time
slows to a crawl
slipping in and out of
rhythm with the pulse
in my chest.

a babbling brook to my left,
softly whispers secrets
as ancient as rhyme itself.

speaks of when the earth
was new, pure and innocent
like a infant fawn
taking its first steps.

i walk deeper, savoring
the sensation of the wind
permeating the pores
of my consciousness.

the feel of the ground
beneath my bare feet
binding my soul all the closer
with every step i take.

closer...and closer still,
with every step i take.

-DL Martin