Forest Mused

Poetry/short story blog. main- iwishiwasmoss

[forestmusedwritings]

Where does it hurt?

It hurts in the soul that wanders. From this lifetime to the next. Searching for purpose in the inky sky. Hoping a constellation points them in the right direction. Wandering between fields of wildflowers, hoping to hear a reason in the hum of the bees, or the whips of the wind that winds through the grass. Wandering over the mossy earth, deep in the forest. Hoping to see the truth in the silence of the trees. It hurts in every path that crumbles beneath tired feet. In every new beginning. With every “fingers crossed” and “maybe this time it will be different. It hurts in the “not quite right’s”, and the “almost there”. Forever never knowing what is right.

[forestmusedwritings]

Soft bristles, an extension of my fingertips. Bright colors splatter over a bare canvas. My mind finally running free. No words are needed here. Feelings I cannot voice start to blend into one. I search for perfection in the shapes in which I’ve created. But what is perfection when it comes to a feeling? Can a feeling ever be perfect? Perhaps not. And if that’s so why should I tear myself apart for what I create not being perfect, when the root of the creation is not perfect to begin with? To come to terms with such a realization is a feat I may never overcome. But still I hold my brush with the expectation of such. To smear myself upon gesso with only my own judgment to bear.

[forestmusedwritings]

Too fast are the leaves changing from green to orange when I have yet to soak up the warmth of the sun.

[forestmusedwritings]

over and over

Over and over and over again. I climb my way up just to fall back down. I’m tired. So tired. Just for once I want to stay at the top. Where the wild flowers flourish and the sun warms my skin. It’s so cold here at the bottom. A ravine I’ve grown familiar with. I want to learn the sky. To be one with the birds and stars. Mud is caked under my nails and smeared through my hair. I've befriended these rocks that support my fall. But I want more than the chill they offer. 

[forestmusedwritings]

Everything is falling apart just before I could put it together. I’m scrambling for pieces of a puzzle that never existed. This isn’t how it should be. I was so close. It was illuminated in the moon light and now the phases have gone dark. My lungs burn, screaming for air only to fill with the inky sky around me. No stars in sight as I spiral down. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I had it figured out. Or so it seemed. I thought I was certain. But once again I’m shown how I can’t trust my own judgement. I’m lost in the void of what I want to be true and what I thought was true. Is there a difference? I don’t know anymore. I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t.

[forestmusedwritings]

what am i supposed to do when my heart hurts at the thought of you. 

[forestmusedwritings]

The sun combusts. A million flames reaching out to caress the earth. Destruction in the softest touch. And the moon burns brighter, from silver to gold. The oceans dissipates as the trees bow into the dirt. The earth quakes, cracks and breaks in pieces. Clouds of ash float by, harsh against sapphire sky.

[forestmusedwritings]

Up in the clouds but I’m afraid of heights. I wish so desperately for my feet to once again touch solid ground. The silence is deafening up here and I wish to hear the birds song once more. The warmth of the sun wraps itself around me in comfort. But it’s not the same without cool moss underfoot. Only if I were to fall from the sky, but the fog has too much of a hold on me. The stars keep me company night after night as the moon begins to fade away.

[iwishiwasmoss]

Who are you?

Who are you? Who are you really? Not just the you that your family and closest friends know. Even that you is changed and deformed by those around you. I want to know the you that has only been touched by the moon and stars and the darkest parts of the night. When the sun dips below the horizon, and ink floods the sky. What is bared on your flesh that the sun hides? what song do you sing with the wolves while the birds nest? 

[forestmusedwritings]

Mine from the main

[forestmusedwritings]

The sun dripped gold onto the cool damp earth. Warmth spread as dewy moss glistened. Birds sung, their breath dancing on the wind.

[forestmusedwritings]

the stars were made for us and you had your eyes on the ground

[forestmusedwritings]

create/destroy

I am afraid of the power in which I possess. It is golden and bright. Soft and steady. With it, I can create wondrous worlds. In these worlds, soft, warm sandy beaches can stretch for miles along the deep blue, salty sea which glows orange with the setting sun. Or maybe there's a cool deep forest, with spongey, damp moss covering every inch of the earthen floor. Trees with their rough bark tower into the sky, their lush canopy creating a cover from the blazing sun. Peaceful are the worlds I can create. But this power is also dull and gloomy. Harsh and unpredictable. With it, I can take these peaceful worlds and destroy them as easily as a piece of paper torn from an old notebook. The sand turning ablaze, burning to the touch. The sea can turn feral, wave crashing into the shore, ripping whatever it grabs back into the ravaging tides. The trees could burn, turning the forest into nothing but sickening ash. Or maybe they get cut down, having been deemed more useful for something other than protecting the forest floor which has turned brittle, dried up in the harsh sun that has been let loose. I must cage up my power. Despite the good and bad. If I create too much, who's to say I won't destroy just as much, or maybe more. I must have control, but it is so tempting to release. to see what I can build, just to tear it down. This boredom swirling around me is starting to thicken. The soft whispers are getting louder. Creation is starting to sound like destruction. When the fog clears I wonder which one I will have chosen. To create. Or to destroy.

[forestmusedwritings]

My stupid brain

My stupid brain. Tearing you apart, in spite of my heart. I ache for you but do not deserve you. You are good, sweet, and kind. So I tear you apart, amplifying the smallest pieces to create a problem from nothing. In an attempt to make you bad. I don't deserve the good you bring to me, my brain yells at my heart, while my heart weeps for what it wants so dearly. My stupid, wretched brain. There is no need, can't you see, to tear them apart as you do. We are allowed to have the good, so, please. You stupid brain. Do not tear them apart any longer.

[forestmusedwritings]

earthbound

I am bound to this earth, like feathers to a bird. Only for a moment do I let myself fall into the clouds, to dream of other worlds. Slowly I am brought back into my flesh. The roots of my feet keep me steady on cold, damp soil. I cover myself in blankets of moss, to dream once again under an ink splotched sky.

[forestmusedwritings]

My love

I’m going to build you up, just to tear you down. I will care for you, and love you, and make you the happiest you’ve ever been. Just to take that care and love and tear it all to shreds. Then all the memories of us will be but ashes on the wind.

[forestmusedwritings]

How am I to know what's right from wrong when all the reasons blend into one.

[forestmusedwritings]

we may be ourselves, but we are also others. built by each passerby whether we realize it or not. it takes but a glance or even a breath for their essence to become part of who we are.