Candle in the dark

The candle flame dances,
making time to the words
flowing through heart and space.

Spells cast weave that time into a tale,
trailing truth unseen into the woods.
The trees, forming this open circle,
push branches into it, sigels of shadow  − work out their path
beating a rythm to life
(another tree in the centre one
cannot see, yet knows it is there)…
I lay my hand on its ¿non-existant? bark,
heart rising to the wind around its tops, feet growing into a second set of
roots deep in the flow of water in the dark
beneath the grasses …
all is quiet, whispers the wind,
be silent with me and listen,
it is your own heart
that touches all that must be shed.
I feel my skin flaking, ridding itself
of old lines that were forgotten,
but still a ruling principle –
I still bow unwittingly,
slow beat of untruth,
background noise
for naught
here –

mind this,
you should never have been born,
the twin should have lived

but by breath,
by unmoving death
from old into now, centred
in heartfelt time,  the shadows open
into space, silently, full of hurt
becoming tears, brook to book
to being
here, not alone among the trees,
vibrant in their place,

but with him
still there too