The Clearing

The Clearing

enter spiraling swirls of mist and fog
lying dense in hollowed places
where tripping
reminded of the path I’m on
knowing it’s not one
that’s been well worn
but just ahead the glow gets bright
through the bushes
where my now is laying
I stop
and breathe
aware enough
to remember to be thankful of the thorns
and recognize precious red
which with out the moon
burns black
reflecting wet and dripping beads
finding hidden light
amidst this strangling snag

the light begins to bend
to trust
to bounce
to dance
lightning bugs and fireflies
lifting from their leaves
like fireworks
climax spark
romantic and revealing
and amongst the budding blackberries
I am on the edge
of a beautiful

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