Sitting in my forest of seclusion I close my eyes, <br />I think of the birds on the wing high in the sky, <br />And how they teach me no matter the impossibility <br />There’s a way if I find it, a way for me to fly <br /> <br />Then I wonder why, alone in my forest of seclusion <br />The good ones die? grief’s in my heart, <br />What’s the reason for this intrusion? But it made me strong <br />And they’ll live on, for death as an end is just an illusion <br /> <br />And then in my forest of seclusion, I see a pack of wolves <br />And they teach me with the beauty of there movement, <br />To be at one with our world, and everything included, <br />So we would never see a broken world in need of improvement <br /> <br />And then a hoot from the owl cuts through the air <br />A reminder from this hunter to use your eyes beware, <br />Coz even alone in my forest of seclusion out of nowhere, <br />I could be pursued, its either reality or delusion,<br /><br />Kaspa Richards<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/forest-of-seclusion/
