For the Trees

I live along the periphery,
always avoiding the forest.
I say that not to boast.
I say that not to whine,
nor to deprecate myself.

I look inside the forest,
from the safety of the meadow.
The bright sun
ensconcing my world,
makes the forest look
much darker,
more foreboding.

I have had those moments,
the adrenaline surges,
where I've delved inside.
My eyes adjust.
Suddenly,
pathways appear,
it seems.

I leave the clear open
nothingness and enter
this beast.
And though I see,
it is not the monster
I thought it to be,
the forest suddenly
loses its mystique.

I then notice others,
deep within,
wandering,
circling,
some crying,
some laughing, rejoicing,
all seemingly
at nothing.

I then realize
they are lost.
Some do it boldly,
Some ask for mercy.
Some feel the conqueror,
some the slave.

I realize then,
They've existed here
for years.
They bury their lives,
among the tall sentinels,
oaks, pines,
elms even saplings.
Every existence
reaching desperately,
for the brightness
that I chose to leave.

Some,
the tall one's
the bold one's,
use their
mock courage,
and finally,
after years,
sometimes,
decades of
determined effort,
effort
that becomes
its own insane ritual.
They finally
find the light.

They rise above it all,
their obsessed growth
has allowed themselves
a peak at the sun they left,
so many years ago.

Their feet and roots,
remain embedded
in darkness,
yet they celebrate the light,
so long gone,
for so many years.

They drop seeds to the ground,
and in those seeds,
saplings emerge,
never having
seen the light,
yet somehow
knowing they must
fight and struggle,
wander and obsess,
until they then also,
climb high
find the sun.

I see all this
from just a few feet in,
I marvel
then shudder.
A terror
overwhelms me.

Every tree in the forest,
every wandering soul,
is at once comforted by
the numbers,
eased to know,
they are not alone,
in their quest for the sun.

The fear of being
lost in the darkness,
is soothed by
the sheer number of others,
who also search.
Yet it is those numbers,
that have caused
the shadows,
within which
they tremble.

That thought
courses through me.
That awakening
chills my soul.
I find myself,
first backing away,
then turning,
then running,
as fast as I can,
back to
the meadow,
back to
where I began.

I then find a hill,
and climb atop.
I look back
at the forest,
and realize,
though I struggle
to survive,
no different than,
those deep within,
that darkness and gloom,
the sun shines on me,
morning through noon.

I live near that forest,
and watch the trees grow,
marveled by their
magnificent obsession,
to find the light,
within which I live,
each one of my days.

Though the trees grow tall,
majestic and beautiful,
my ordinary existence,
has always seen the light.