Feelings

Love but takes a shape in the wilderness of ones' mind,
Where feelings are the trees.
Reaching for the tenderness of the sun's warmth,
Stretching out with their ever growing branches,
To grasp their ultimate goal of togetherness.
ever growing,
Ever closer,
Almost touching each other.
But they are too close,
And then it is too late for them to go back from the path that they
have taken.

As is always the case the heat is too much for them,
No warning,
No protection.
Only hurt and pain they are confronted with.
Not knowing how to defend they are forced to withdraw their burning
branches,
Falling to the ground as cinders of charcoal,
Turning to ash to wait at deaths' door.

The trees have died and all that remains are the severed trunks of the
love that once was.
The wilderness has gone and so has the source of life of that which
grew within.
The place is baron,
And an eerie feeling of emptiness exists.
So love can take no shape once more.

It was said that the wilderness would not grow again,
But the trees roots will sprout their wings of love for all to
see.
This time they will be more cautious,
However, the need for the sun will always overpower,
And the wheels of fortune will spin once more.